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Emily  Gardiner  taken  prisoner  by  Agnes. 
Page  43. 


AGNES  AND  ELIZA; 


Inrailifq 


FROM   THE   EDITION   OF    THE   SOCIETY   FOR 
PROMOTING   CHRISTIAN   KNOWLEDGE. 


NEW- YORK: 

GENERAL    PROTESTANT    EPISCOPAL 

SUNDAY    SCHOOL   UNION 

Depository  20   John- Street. 


1850, 


Pudetet  &  Russell,  Printers 


AGNES  AND  ELIZA 


CHAPTER    I. 

"  Do  not  have  the  shutters  shut  just 
yet,  if  you  please,  aunt ;  let  me  watch  at 
the  window  one  quarter  of  an  hour  long- 
er :  I  am  sure  Agnes  must  be  here  by 
that  time." 

"  My  dear  Eliza,  you  have  been  looking 
out  of  that  window  half-an-hour  already, 
and  you  may  yet  have  a  good  while  to 
wait;  come,  let  Martha  draw  the  cur- 
tains, and  do  you  help  me  to  Wind  this 

J^     skein  of  silk,  which  has  got  sadly  twisted. 

/*>•    We  shall  be  sure  to  hear  as  soon  as  the 

*     chaise  stops." 

A 


b  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

Such  was  the  way  in  which  Mrs.  Den- 
ham  and  her  niece  waited  the  arrival  of 
Agnes,  the  sister  of  Eliza,  from  whom 
she  had  been  parted  for  what  seemed  to 
them  both  a  long  time.  Eliza  tried  in 
vain,  whilst  holding  her  aunt's  skein,  to 
remain  still ;  she  was  so  full  of  the 
thought  of  seeing  Agnes.  Presently  ceas- 
ing to  talk,  and  listening  very  attentively, 
she  cried  :  "  There,  there,  aunt :  that  is 
the  chaise,  I  am  sure."  She  ran  into  the 
hall,  and  soon  the  two  sisters  were  in 
each  other's  arms.  The  next  minute 
Eliza  was  leading  Agnes  towards  Mrs. 
Denham,  to  introduce  her  to  that  lady, 
whom  she  never  remembered  to  have 
seen  before.  "  This  is  Agnes,  auift,  come 
after  all.  There,  Agnes ;  you  have  seen 
Aunt  Denham,  at  last." 

Mrs.  Denham  drew  the  child  nearer, 
and  gave  her  a  kiss.  "  And  how  did  you 
leave  your  grandmama?"  she  asked; 
"  not  the  better,  I  am  afraid,  for  having  to 


OR,  HUMILITY.  7 

part  with  you  :  but  she  will  be  so,  I  trust, 
by  and  by.  And  now  I  am  sure  that  you 
must  be  quite  ready  for  some  tea ;  or,  at 
least,  that  you  will  be,  when  you  are  a 
little  less  cold.  So  stand  by  the  fire,  and 
warm  yourself  a  few  minutes  ;  I  dare 
say  you  are  tired  of  sitting." 

Though  the  joy  of  the  sisters  at  meet- 
ing was  great,  that  of  Agnes  was  a  good 
deal  damped,  because  she  had  just  left  a 
very  kind  grandmama,  Mrs.  Shaen.  When 
the  servant,  who  had  driven  her  over  in 
the  chaise,  came  in  to  ask  if  Mrs.  Denham 
had  any  orders  for  him  to  take  back  to  his 
mistress,  the  little  girl  could  scarcely  pre- 
vent crying :  happily  for  her,  however, 
the  evening  was  short ;  for  Mrs.  Denham, 
thinking  that  Agnes  might  possibly  be 
tired,  and  that  the  children  would  like  to 
be  together,  sent  them  both  to  bed  early. 

And  there  we  will  leave  Agnes  and 
Eliza  to  rest,  that  I  may  tell  you,  my 
young    readers,    something    more    about 


8  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  J 

them.  I  dare  say  you  would  like  to  know- 
how  old  these  little  girls  were,  and  how 
tall  they  were,  and  what  they  were  like  ; 
all  this,  therefore,  if  you  will  wait  pa- 
tiently, you  shall  hear. 

Agnes  and  Eliza  were  twins.  They 
had  lost  both  their  parents  when  they 
were  quite  babies,  and  had  since  then 
lived  with  Mrs.  Shaen,  their  grandmama. 
This  lady  was  a  very  good  and  kind  per- 
son, and  loved  these  little  ones  most  ten- 
derly. Their  mother,  Mrs.  Graham,  had 
been  the  only  daughter  of  Mrs.  Shaen  ; 
at  her  death,  she  had  given  up  her  infants 
to  the  care  of  their  grandmama,  who  had, 
from  that  time,  watched  over  them  with 
the  greatest  affection,  and  they,  in  return, 
loved  her  as  a  parent.  Westcote,  the 
village  in  Somersetshire  where  she  lived, 
was  a  very  pretty  place,  and  there,  under 
their  grandmama' s  roof,  the  first  years  of 
childhood  were  happily  spent  by  the  two 
sisters ;  more  happily,  indeed,  by  Agnes 


OR,  HUMILITY.  V 

than  by  Eliza,  the  reason  of  which  you 
shall  hear  presently. 

Now  it  happened,  when  these  little 
girls  were  about  nine  years  old,  that  Mrs. 
Shaen's  health,  which  had  always  till  then 
been  remarkably  good,  began  to  fail ;  she 
became  subject  to  violent  head-aches, 
which  often  confined  her  to  her  room  ; 
and,  even  when  free  from  these,  she  was 
not  able  to  walk  out  with  her  grand-chil- 
dren, nor  to  teach  them,  as  she  had  done 
before. 

So,  after  going  on  in  this  way  for  some 
months,  she  began  to  feel  that  it  would  be 
better  for  Agnes  and  Eliza  to  leave  her, 
at  least  for  a  little  while  ;  and,  just  as  she 
was  thinking  about  this,  Mrs.  Denham,  an 
aunt  of  the  little  girls,  as  you  have  heard, 
though  no  relation  to  Mrs.  Shaen,  came  to 
settle  in  that  part  of  the  country.  Before 
this,  she  had  lived  a  long  way  off,  in  the 
north  of  England,  and  had  not  seen  her 
nieces  since  they  were  old  enough  to  re- 
2 


10  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

member  her.  Now,  however,  that  she 
was  nearer  to  them,  on  hearing  of  their 
grandmama's  ill  health,  she  wrote  and 
offered  to  receive  Agaes  and  Eliza  into 
her  house  for  the  present.  The  proposal 
was  gladly  accepted,  and  it  was  fixed 
that  Mrs.  Denham  should  come  over  and 
spend  a  few  days  at  Westcote,  and  then 
that  the  children  should  return  with  her 
to  her  home  at  Barrow.  But  several 
things  occurred  to  prevent  this,  till  at  last 
Mrs.  Shaen  resolved  to  wait  no  longer, 
but  to  send  Agnes  and  Eliza  to  their  aunt 
in  her  por^-chaise.  As  she  could  not 
make  up  her  mind  to  part  with  both  at 
once,  Eliza  went  first,  and  Agnes,  in 
about  ten  da}rs,  joined  her.  How  she 
was  received  by  Mrs.  Denham,  and  how 
the  sisters  met,  you  have  already  heard. 

But  I  have  not  yet  told  you,  as  I  pro- 
mised to  do,  about  the  appearance  of 
these  little  girls.  They  were  now  be- 
tween nine  and  ten,  and  as  tall  as  those 


OR,  HUMILITY.  11 

of  that  age  usually  are.  Being  twins, 
they  a  good  deal  resembled  one  another  ; 
they  were  of  the  same  height  and  size, 
and  had  hair  and  eyes  of  the  same  dark 
colour.  In  some  other  ways,  too,  they 
were  alike ;  they  were  both  lively  and 
affectionate,  though  rather  backward  for 
their  age.  Yet  there  was  a  difference  be- 
tween them  ;  and  it  may  help  you,  my 
readers,  to  understand  the  reason  of  this 
difference,  if  I  tell  you  one  or  two  things 
which  took  place  when  Agnes  and  Eliza 
were  quite  young  children,  living  with 
their  grandmama  at  Westcote. 

It  happened,  then, — to  go  back  a  little 
in  my  story, — when  they  were  both  about 
seven  years  old,  that  a  cousin  of  theirs, 
named  Mary  Rankin,  was  returning  for 
her  first  holidays,  from  a  school  at  some 
distance  from  her  home,  the  road  to 
which  lay  near  Westcote,  and  Mrs.  Shaen 
wished  the  child  to  spend  a  few  days 
with  her  on  her  way.     Agnes  and  Eliza 


12  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ', 

were  very  glad  to  have  a  companion,  and 
many  a  merry  game  of  play  did  they 
enjoy  with  her,  for  they  were  allowed 
holidays  during  this  visit,  and,  instead  of 
their  usual  lessons,  they  used  to  read  some 
interesting  book  all  together.  But  one 
morning,  Mrs.  Shaen  said  that  she  should 
like  to  see  how  her  little  friend  had  been 
getting  on  at  school.  So  she  bade  the 
three  children  sit  down,  and  write  a  copy 
which  she  would  set  them.  Eliza  and 
her  sister,  however,  were  chiefly  busied 
in  watching  their  cousin  ;  and  so,  when 
their  writing  was  finished,  the  letters  were 
very  uneven  and  ugly.  "  My  dears," 
said  their  grandmama,  as  she  looked  at 
them,  "how  is  this?  I  know  you  can 
make  better  strokes  than  these.  1  fear 
you  have  been  sadly  inattentive.  Come, 
I  will  set  you  a  fresh  copy,  and  I  shall 
hope  to  see  it  better  done." 

Presently  Mary  brought  her  writing. 

"  Ah,   that   is   very   nice,"   said    Mrs. 


OR,  HUMILITY.  13 

Shaen.  "  I  see  you  have  been  a  good 
little  girl,  and  have  taken  pains.  If  you 
continue  to  do  the  same  at  school,  you 
will  soon  find  that  you  improve,  and  are 
able  to  write  much  better  than  at  present, 
though  that  is  pretty  well  for  your  age." 

"  Oh,  Agnes,"  cried  her  grandmama 
presently,  "  I  am  quite  ashamed  of  you  ! 
See,  your  cousin  has  had  the  same  letters 
to  write,  and  what  a  difference  there  is 
between  them  !  But  no  wonder,  for  you 
are  not  copying  mine.  Perhaps,  Mary, 
you  can  help  her  a  little,  and  show  her 
how  to  make  her  capitals,  which  she 
seems  to  have  forgotten  ?" 

Mary  very  quietly  did  as  she  was  told, 
but  Agnes  was  not  at  all  pleased  that  a 
child  of  her  own  age  should  be  called 
upon,  as  she  thought,  to  teach  her.  It 
was  not,  therefore,  till  after  some  little 
time  that  she  made  any  attempt  to  do  as 
she  had  been  shown,  and  then  only  from 
the  fear  of  displeasing  her  grandmama. 


14  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

At  length,  however,  the  copy  was  finished, 
and  much  better  written. 

The  next  day  Mary  left.  The  morning 
after  her  departure  was  Sunday,  and 
Agnes  and  Eliza  used  on  that  day  to  read 
to  Mrs.  Shaen  the  Collect,  Epistle,  and 
Gospel,  which  they  would  hear  at  church, 
that  she  might  explain  whatever  was  dif- 
ficult first.  This  was  the  third  Sunday 
after  Trinity,  and  consequently  the  Epis- 
tle was  1  Pet.,  v.  5. 

"  Some  of  those  are  very  nice  verses 
for  you,  children,"  said  their  grandmama, 
when  they  had  finished  reading. 

Agnes.  Yes,  grandmama,  and  we  ought 
to  know  them,  because  a  long  while  ago 
you  taught  us  the  5th  verse,  which  says  : 
"  All  of  you  be  subject  one  to  another, 
and  be  clothed  with  humility  ;  for  God 
resisteth  the  proud,  and  giveth  grace  to 
the  humble." 

Mrs.  S.  How  happy  it  would  be  for 
you,  could  you  always  remember  this  ! 


OR,  HUMILITY.  15 

And  yet,  though  it  seems  to  you  now  an 
easy  text,  you  find  it  difficult  to  recollect 
at  the  right  time.  Do  you  not  believe, 
Agnes,  that  if  you  had  thought  of  it  the 
other  day,  when  Mary  was  with  us,  you 
would  have  acted  differently. 

Agnes.  About  my  writing,  grandmama, 
do  you  mean  ? 

Mrs.  S.  Yes,  Agnes  ;  you  behaved  in 
that  naughty  way  then,  because  you  were 
too  proud  to  let  your  cousin  teach  you  a 
thing  which  you  yet  knew  she  could  do 
better  than  yourself.  Such  pride  may 
seem  a  very  little  fault  to  you,  my  Agnes  ; 
but  see  what  God  says  of  it :  "  He  resist- 
eth  the  proud."  And  in  another  place  we 
read  :  "  Every  one  that  is  proud  in  heart 
is  abomination  to  the  Lord."  I  do  not 
speak  to  you  now  only,  Agnes  ;  I  want  to 
speak  to  you  both,  because  I  see  in  you 
both,  from  time  to  time,  the  breaking  out 
of  that  pride  which  is,  indeed,  natural  to 
us  all,  but  which  is  so  opposite  a  temper 


16  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  J 

to  that  which  God  loves.  You  remember 
how  our  Blessed  Lord  told  His  disciples 
to  become  like  little  children  ;  and  do  you 
not  think  that,  when  He  told  them  so,  He 
meant  that  children  themselves  should  be 
meek  and  humble  ? 

"  But,"  continued  Mrs.  Shaen,  for  she 
saw  Agnes  looking  very  sorrowful,  "we 
have  not  yet  read  to  the  end  of  our  verse. 
That  God  who  resisteth  the  proud,  '  giveth 
grace  to  the  humble.'  There  is  a  pleas- 
ant thought  for  you,  children ;  if  you  ask 
God,  His  grace  shall  make  }^ou  humble  ; 
and  when  He  has  made  you  so,  He  will 
still  give  you  greater  grace,  and  you  shall 
become  more  and  more  like  Him  who 
was  meek  and  lowly  in  heart." 

Then  Mrs.  Shaen  told  her  little  grand- 
children to  find  out  different  texts  which 
speak  of  the  evil  of  pride,  and  bring  them 
to  her  on  the  following  Sunday ;  and 
when  they  did  so,  she  explained  to  them 


OR,  HUMILITY.  17 

the  meaning  of  such  as  they  had  not  be- 
fore understood. 

In  this  way  did  their  grandmama,  from 
time  to  time,  talk  to  Agnes  and  Eliza  ;  she 
loved  to  speak  of  the  Holy  Child  Jesus, 
and  she  prayed  that  they  might  follow  the 
example  of  His  great  humility ;  some- 
times she  would  say  that  pride  was  one 
of  the  chief  of  those  works  of  the  devil 
which  it  had  been  promised  for  them  at 
their  baptism  that  they  should  renounce ; 
at  others,  she  would  tell  them  of  the  peace 
and  joy  which  only  humble  children 
know.  And,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  her 
words  were  not  in  vain  ;  little  Agnes  list- 
ened very  attentively,  and  thought  much 
of  what  she  heard  ;  so  that  Mrs.  Shaen 
had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her  become, 
by  degrees,  more  meek  and  gentle.  She 
had  never,  indeed,  been  a  particularly 
naughty  child ;  still  there  began  to  be  a 
change  in  her  manner  and  conduct,  which 
those  about  her  could  not  but  notice. 
3 


18  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  J 

With  Eliza  it  was  different.  Being  very 
fond  of  her  grandmama,  she  perhaps  paid 
more  heed  to  her  words  than  to  those  of  any 
one  else ;  but  she  never  thought  of  doing 
according  to  what  she  was  taught ;  so  she 
went  on,  as  far  as  she  could,  in  her  own 
way,  from  day  to  day.  Even  the  kind 
instructions  by  which  Agnes  was  improv- 
ing, did  Eliza  harm  ;  for  thus  it  is  with 
children,  as  with  grown  people,  that  if 
they  are  not  made  better  by  the  good 
things  they  hear,  they  become  worse  ; 
and  each  time  that  they  are  told  what  is 
right,  they  grow  more  careless  about  do- 
ing it. 

Now,  however,  to  speak  of  something 
more  pleasant,  I  will  tell  you  two  stories 
about  Agnes,  which  will  show  you  the 
way  in  which  she  tried  to  remember  her 
grandmama' s  words.  The  first  shall  be 
an  account  of  what  happened  a  few 
months  after  Mary's  visit,  of  which  you 
have  heard. 


OR,  HUMILITY.  19 

Agnes  and  Eliza  were  one  day  sitting 
with  Mrs.  Shaen,  doing  their  lessons  as 
usual. 

"Oh,  grandmama,  what  a  long  sum  !" 
exclaimed  both  the  children,  as  they  saw 
her  put  down  figure  after  figure  upon  the 
slate. 

Mrs.  S.  It  is  so  long  a  sum  that  I  do 
not  feel  at  all  sure  whether  you  will  be 
able  to  do  it ;  but  I  should  like  you  both 
to  try. 

The  little  girls,  therefore,  set  to  work 
very  diligently,  and  were  quiet  for  some 
time. 

"  I  have  done  it,  grandmama,"  at  last 
cried  Eliza. 

Mrs.  S.  And  it  is  quite  right.  You 
have  done  it  very  well. 

Agnes.  I  have  done  it  now,  too,  grand- 
mama. 

Eliza.  Oh,  Agnes,  that  cannot  be  right, 
for  it  is  not  like  mine  ! 

Mrs.  S.    You  have  made  one   or  two 


20  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  J 

mistakes,  my  love,  but  I  am  not  surprised 
at  that.  However,  if  you  like  to  look 
over  your  sum  for  a  few  minutes,  and  try 
to  find  them  out,  you  can  do  so. 

Agnes  tried,  but  in  vain.  Presently 
her  sister  said  :  "  I  can  help  you,  Agnes, 
if  you  like." 

Agnes.  No,  thank  you,  Eliza  ;  grand- 
mama  is  going  to  show  me. 

Just  then  the  servant  came  into  the 
room,  bringing  word  that  some  one  was 
waiting  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Shaen. 

"  My  dear  Agnes,"  her  grandmama 
then  said  to  her,  "  you  must  not  spend 
any  more  time  now  over  your  sum,  and  I 
cannot  stay  to  help  you  ;  so,  either  rub  it 
out,  or  let  Eliza  show  you." 

Agnes  was  a  good  deal  vexed  at  not 
being  able  to  succeed  with  her  task,  and 
vexed  again  that  her  grandmama  could 
not  assist  her  in  it.  At  first  she  wished 
to  rub  the  figures  out  altogether  ;  but  a 
better  thought  came  into  her  mind,  and, 


OR,  HUMILITY.  21 

going  round  to  her  sister,  she  asked : 
"  Eliza  dear,  will  you  help  me  ?" 

A  very  little  aid  from  Eliza  was  suffi- 
cient to  show  Agnes  her  mistakes,  and 
she  finished  the  sum  by  herself. 

"  There,  my  love,"  said  her  grandma- 
ma,  on  entering  the  room,  and  looking  at 
her  slate,  "  I  am  as  much  pleased  as  if 
you  had  done  this  quite  alone." 

The  other  story  I  have  to  relate  about 
Agnes  is  of  something  which  took  place  a 
year  and  a  half  afterwards,  during  Mrs. 
Shaen's  illness.  At  this  time  the  children 
were  chiefly  left  with  Aylton,  a  faithful 
servant  of  their  grandmama's,  of  whom 
they  were  very  fond.  But  it  happened 
that  Aylton  was  obliged  to  go  over  to  her 
father  for  a  week,  and  then  a  much 
younger  person,  of  the  name  of  Hill,  took 
care  of  Agnes  and  Eliza. 

One  day,  the  little  girls  were  playing 
together  in  the  parlour  with  their  balls, 
when  Hill  came  in. 


22  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

"Miss  Agnes,  Miss  Eliza,"  she  said, 
"  will  you  be  so  good  as  to  go  and  play 
up-stairs  in  the  nursery  ?  I  am  afraid  lest 
your  balls  should  do  some  mischief 
here." 

Eliza.  We  always  played  down-stairs 
when  Aylton  was  with  us  ;  and  there  is 
so  little  room  in  the  nursery,  we  cannot 
go  there. 

Hill.  Yes,  Miss,  you  might  do  so  when 
your  grandmama  or  Aylton  were  sitting 
with  you,  but  that  is  quite  different  from 
playing  alone. 

Eliza.  "  Oh,  we  shall  not  hurt  any- 
thing here ;  or  if  we  do,  now  that  you 
have  told  us,  it  will  not  be  your  fault.  I 
really  cannot  go,"  she  then  whispered  to 
her  sister,  "just  because  Hill  says  it.  If 
grandmama  had  told  her,  then  I  would 
dg  so." 

Agnes.  "  Oh  !  but,  Eliza,  I  think  we 
ought  to  go.  I  think  grandmama  would 
call  it  proud,  not  to  do  what  Hill  says, 


OR,  HUMILITY.  23 

because  she  is  a  servant.  I  am  coming, 
Hill,"  she  continued,  speaking  louder. 

Eliza  at  first  felt  inclined  to  stay  behind 
by  herself;  but,  unwilling  to  lose  her 
game  of  play,  she  soon  followed  her 
sister. 

Thus  did  Agnes  go  on,  till  the  effort, 
which  had  at  first  been  very  difficult, 
grew  by  degrees  easier  to  her  ;  and,  be- 
fore she  was  herself  aware  of  it,  it  had 
almost  become  a  habit  with  her  to  think 
and  speak  humbly  ;  so  that  it  was  sur- 
prising how  much  the  little  girl  was  im- 
proved when  she  left  her  grandmama's. 

And,  now  that  I  have  brought  down 
my  story  to  the  time  at  which  it  first  be- 
gan, it  will  he  better  for  the  future  to  pro- 
ceed more  regularly  ;  for  this  purpose  let 
us  return  to  little  Agnes  and  Eliza,  whom 
we  left  sleeping  quietly  together  the  first 
night,  after  their  meeting  at  their  aunt's. 
What  they  did  on  the  following  morning, 
shall  be  related  in  my  next  chapter. 


24  AGNES    AND    ELIZA 


CHAPTER    II. 

Soon  after  breakfast  the  next  day,  Mrs. 
Denham  left  her  little  nieces  to  play  to- 
gether for  a  short  time.  Eliza  had  much 
that  was  new  to  show  her  sister ;  and 
Agnes,  on  her  side,  had  a  good  deal  to  tell 
about  her  grandmama.  When  all  this 
was  over,  and  they  were  both  getting  a 
little  tired,  Agnes  suddenly  exclaimed  : 

"  Oh,  Eliza,  how  glad  I  am  that  we  are 
together  again,  and  in  such  a  pretty  place, 
too  !  I  almost  felt  last  night  as  though  I 
should  not  be  happy  here  ;  but  perhaps  it 
was  only  because  I  was  tired,  and  had 
just  left  grandmama." 

Eliza.  Do  not  be  too  sure  of  being 
happy,  Agnes.     Aunt  Denham  is  not  at 


OR,  HUMILITY.  25 

all  like  grandmama  ;  she  does  things  so 
very  oddly.  And  then  this  house,  how 
can  }^ou  call  it  pretty,  Agnes  ?  Our  room, 
too,  is  so  small,  and  so  dull.  And  we 
have  only  the  parlour  for  playing,  and  do- 
m&  our  lessons  in. 

Agnes.  Oh,  but  there  is  the  garden,' 
Eliza. 

Eliza.  Yes,  there  is  that  certainly  ;  but 
I  never  saw  so  ugly  a  one  before.  Agnes, 
I  don't  like  being  here  at  all. 

Agnes.  Do  riot  say  so,  Eliza.  To  be 
sure,  I  don't  know  aunt  yet,  but  she 
seemed  very  kind  last  night ;  and  this 
morning,  you  see,  she  has  let  us  play  to- 
gether almost  the  first  thing. 

Eliza.  You  will  say  differently  by  and 
by.  You  do  not  know  aunt's  way  of 
speaking  yet ;  when  I  am  doing  my  les- 
sons, she  teaches  me  just  as  if  I  Were  a 
baby,  and  had  not  learnt  anything. 

Agnes.  But  we  are  children,  Eliza,  and 
we  cannot  know  half  so  much  as  aunt. 
4 


26  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

When  we  do,  I  dare  say  she  will  leave  off 
speaking  so.  But  somehow  I  think  we 
ought  to  be  the  more  obliged  to  her  for 
teaching  us,  since  she  believes  we  know 
so  little. 

Eliza.  Well,  Agnes,  I  cannot  under- 
stand you.  You  used  to  appear  so  fond 
of  grandmama  always,  and  to  like  to  be 
with  her  ;  and  now  you  have  come  here, 
you  do  not  seem  to  mind  it.  I  did  not 
imagine  you  were  so  forgetful. 

Agnes.  I  am  not  forgetting,  Eliza ;  I 
am  thinking  of  what  grandmama  said  to 
me  before  I  came  away. 

Eliza.  What  was  that,  Agnes  ? 

Agnes.  "  T  had  been  talking  about  go- 
ing, and  saying  that  I  was  sure  I  should 
never  be  so  happy  as  with  her;  and  she 
answered,  (I  do  not  remember  just  her 
words,  but  they  were  something  like 
these,)  that  there  was  one  sure  way  to  be 
always  contented,  and  that  was,  to  be 
humble ;    because,   if  we   were   so,   we 


OR,  HUMILITY.  27 

should  feel,  as  we  looked  at  all  the  pleas- 
ant things  around  us,  that  each  one  was 
more  than  we  deserved  ;  (and  here,  Eli- 
za," continued  Agnes,  "we  have  so 
many ;)  and  then  grand  mam  a  repeated 
that  verse  out  of  the  Psalms,  which  I  had 
learnt  before,  '  The  meek  shall  inherit  the 
earth ;'  and  she  said  that  something  like 
this  was  the  meaning  of  it." 

Just  as  Agnes  had  finished  speaking, 
Mrs.  Denham  entered  the  room. 

"  Come,  Eliza,"  she  said,  "  it  is  time 
for  you  to  leave  off  play  now.  And  do 
you,  Agnes,  fetch  your  books,  and  come 
and  sit  down  by  your  sister." 

Agnes  was  a  little  startled  by  the  quick 
way  in  which  her  aunt  spoke  ;  however 
she  did  as  she  was  bid,  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments was  seated  by  that  lady.  The 
little  girls'  first  lesson  that  morning  hap- 
pened to  be  in  geography,  of  which  they 
were  both  fond.  Mrs.  Denham  was  not 
used  to  children,  and  her  manner,  which 


28  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

was  rather  rough,  was  very  different  in- 
deed from  that  of  Mrs.  Shaen ;  however, 
the  gentle  and  docile  behaviour  of  Agnes 
quite  won  her  regard,  and,  after  the  les- 
sons were  over,  Mrs.  Denham  proposed 
that  her  nieces  should  take  a  walk  with 
her,  and  that  Agnes  should  see  the  village. 
Agnes  and  Eliza  both  liked  their  walk  ; 
and  their  empkwments  in  the  afternoon 
seemed,  even  to  the  latter,  pleasant  and 
easy.  Towards  evening  their  aunt  again 
allowed  them  to  play  till  about  an  hour 
before  they  went  to  bed,  when  she  called 
them  to  sit  and  work  by  her. 

Eliza  went  up  stairs  that  night,  wonder- 
ing what  had  made  the  day  pass  so  much 
more  happily  than  usually  was  the  case  ; 
and  whether  it  was  all  the  consequence 
of  Agnes  being  with  her;  and  she  hoped 
that  all  the  time  with  her  aunt  would  be 
as  pleasant  in  future. 

In  this  hope,  however,  she  was  disap- 
pointed, for  her  troubles   soon   returned 


OR,  HUMILITY.  29 

again.  But  unfortunately,  when  she  felt 
sad,  and  when  her  aunt  was  vexed  with 
her,  she  seldom  thought  that  the  fault  was 
her  own ;  or,  if  she  did  think  so,  she 
would  not  acknowledge  it,  but  laid  all  the 
blame  upon  others. 

Now  I  will  tell  you  what  it  was  that 
made  this  little  girl  unhappy  ;  and  if  you, 
my  readers,  ever  feel  so  from  a  like  cause, 
I  trust  that  reading  about  her  may  lead 
you  to  see  where  you  have  been  wrong, 
and  that  you  may  thus  be  helped  to  alter 
your  ways. 

Eliza's  real  enemy  was  her  pride. 
That  pride,  to  which  she  had,  from  time 
to  time,  given  way  whilst  at  her  grand- 
mama's,  began  to  show  itself  more  openly. 
Now  the  child  was  no  longer  kept,  as  she 
had  been  at  Westcote,  by  the  presence  of 
her  loved  grandmama,  from  letting  the 
violence  of  her  sinful  temper  break  out ; 
and  as  it  had  not  been  her  habit  to  submit 
to  those  placed  over  her,  because  it  was 


30  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

her  duty  to  do  so,  she  allowed  herself, 
since  she  felt  no  particular  affection  for 
Mrs.  Denham,  constantly  to  struggle 
against  that  lady's  will,  and  disobey  her 
commands  ;  of  course,  such  conduct  was 
nGt  likely  to  gain  her  aunt's  favor  ;  where- 
as, had  Eliza,  like  her  sister,  shown  her- 
self gentle  and  humble,  she  would  have 
found,  like  her,  that  Mrs.  Denham  really 
loved  her,  and  was  kind  to  her. 

Indeed  it  was  surprising  how  many 
pleasures  little  Agnes  enjoyed  at  Barrow. 

Mrs.  Denham  was  very  fond  of  flowers, 
and  she  had  some  early  ones  in  glasses  ; 
these  the  child  used  to  nurse  and  take 
care  of  for  her.  She  had  also  a  pet  dog, 
of  the  name  of  Dash,  which  was  at  first 
no  favourite  with  either  of  the  little  girls ; 
but  since  Agnes  was  kind  to  it,  and  did 
not  pull  it  about,  as  her  sister  would  do 
when  she  was  in  a  passion,  it  learnt  to 
like  her,  and  follow  her  round  the  garden. 
There  were,  moreover,  two  birds,  a  gold- 


OR,  HUMILITY.  31 

finch  and  a  canary,  kept  by  Mrs.  Den- 
ham  ;  and,  when  her  nieces  had  been 
very  good,  she  would  allow  them  to  feed 
the  little  creatures  ;  this  was  a  treat 
which  could  seldom  be  permitted  to  Eliza, 
but  it  often  was  to  Agnes,  so  that  the 
birds  began  to  know  her  ;  and  once,  when 
the  goldfinch  had  been  let  out  of  its  cage 
for  a  few  minutes,  Agnes  was  delighted 
to  see  it  perch  upon  her  hand.  And 
sometimes  Mrs.  Denham  went  down  to 
the  village  school,  and  gave  reward  books 
to  the  diligent  children ;  then  she  would 
take  Agnes  there,  which  was  a  great  treat 
to  her. 

There  was,  however,  one  thing  which 
often  made  Agnes  sorrowful ;  for  she 
loved  her  sister,  and  could  not  bear  to  see 
her  either  doing  what  was  wrong,  or  suf- 
fering for  having  done  so.  Still,  when 
she  tried  to  persuade  her  to  behave  dif- 
ferently, the  answer  usually  was  :  "  Oh, 
Agnes,  it  is  all  because  I  am  here,  and 


32  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

not  with  grandmama.  I  shall  never  do 
differently  in  this  place."  Eliza,  accord- 
ingly, continued  to  give  her  aunt  so  much 
trouble  that  she  became  perplexed  what 
to  do  with  her.  At  last  she  resolved  to 
pay  a  visit  to  Westcote,  and  consult  Mrs. 
Shaen  on  the  subject ;  and,  as  she  knew 
it  would  give  her  little  nieces  great  pleas- 
ure to  see  their  grand.mama,  she  deter- 
mined to  take  them  with  her.  One  morn- 
ing, therefore,  at  breakfast,  she  said  to 
them  :  "  My  dears,  I  am  thinking  of  go- 
ing over  to  Westcote  this  day  week,  and 
I  should  like  to  take  you  both  there.  I 
have  requested  your  grandmama  to  send 
over  the  chaise  the  evening  before  ;  only 
I  can  take  none  but  very  good  children, 
so  I  give  you  a  week's  notice." 

The  time  passed  on,  and  Eliza  was  re- 
markably diligent  and  attentive  through 
the  whole  of  it.  At  length  the  wished- 
for  morning  arrived,  on  which  they  were 
to  set  off  for  Westcote.     Eliza  and  Agnes 


OR,  HUMILITY.  33 

were  very  sorry,  when  they  woke,  to  see 
that  it  was  raining  ;  and  still  more  so, 
when  told  by  their  aunt,  that,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  weather,  only  one  of  them 
could  accompany  her ;  for  the  front  part 
of  the  chaise  had  no  cover  to  protect 
them  from  the  damp  air. 

"  Oh  !  dear  aunt,"  cried  the  children, 
together,  "  I  am  sure  there  would  be 
plenty  of  room  for  us  both  inside.  Grand- 
mama  has  often  taken  us  so  with  her." 

"  Yes,"  observed  their  aunt,  "but  then 
it  was  only  for  a  short  distance.  This 
will  be  a  long  drive." 

"  I  do  not  take  much  room,  aunt,"  cried 
Agnes  ;  "  I  can  sit  anywhere,  indeed  1 
can." 

"  So  can  I,"  said  Eliza,  who  was  wil- 
ling for  once  to  make  herself  of  little  con- 
sequence ;  "  only  do  let  us  go  !" 

"  My  dears,"  replied  Mrs.  Denham,  •'! 
have  some  parcels  to  carry  over  with  me 
to  Westcote,  so  that  the  thing  is  impos- 
5 


34  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

sible.  I  am  very  sorry  for  the  rain,  but  I 
cannot  help  it ;  one  of  you  must  therefore 
remain  behind." 

"  Do  you  not  think,  aunt,"  exclaimed 
Agnes,  after  a  pause,  "  that,  if  you  were 
to  wait  only  a  very  little  while,  it  might 
clear  up  ?" 

"  I  cannot  wait,  Agnes,"  answered  her 
aunt ;  "  even  if  we  set  off  directly,  we 
shall  not  be  back  till  quite  late.  Come,  I 
must  decide  who  is  to  go.  Eliza,  you 
have  been  a  very  good  child  this  week  ; 
and  it  is  so  seldom  that  I  can  have  the 
pleasure  of  saying  this,  that  I  will  take 
you  with  me  this  time.  You,  Agnes, 
must  stay  at  home." 

Mrs.  Denham  and  Eliza  then  left  the 
room.  Poor  Agnes  felt  very  sorrowful, 
and  stood  for  a  moment  against  the  table 
with  her  head  resting  on  her  hand  :  just 
then  it  came  into  her  mind,  that  once  be- 
Fore,  when  she  had  met  with  some  disap- 
pointment at  Westcote,  Mrs.  Shaen,  on 


OR,  HUMILITY.  35 

entering  the  parlor,  had  found  her  in  the 
same  position,  and,  after  inquiring  what 
was  the  matter,  had  repeated  the  verse  : 
''  Submit  yourselves,  therefore,  to  God ; 
and  if  to  God,"  she  had  said  to  her,  "  to 
those  also  whom  He  places  over  us,  our 
parents  or  teachers." 

No  sooner  had  Agnes  recollected  this, 
than  she  endeavoured  at  once  to  put  away 
her  discontented  feelings  from  her ;  and 
it  was  well  that  she  did  so.  It  is  well  for 
us  all,  when  good  thoughts  come  into  our 
minds,  that  we  do  immediately  what  they 
would  lead  us  to  do  ;  because  it  is  God 
who  by  them  is  speaking  to  us,  as  from 
Him  only  all  good  counsels  proceed  ;  and 
if  we  listen  to  this  His  voice,  we  may 
hope  that  He  will  continue  to  guide  us  in 
His  way ;  whereas,  if  we  put  those 
thoughts  from  us,  it  may  be  that  He  will 
never  speak  to  us  again. 

To  return  to  Agnes.  She  presently 
remembered,   that    there   would  be  just 


36  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

time  for  her,  before  her  aunt  and  sister 
left,  to  write  a  little  note  to  her  grand- 
mama,  which  they  might  take  to  West- 
cote,  and  she  hastened  to  do  so.  Mrs. 
Denham  was  really  sorry  not  to  have 
Agnes  with  her,  and  concerned  also  for 
the  child's  disappointment.  Just  as  she 
was  stepping  into  the  chaise,  she  turned 
suddenly  back,  and  taking  a  large  key 
from  her  pocket,  gave  it  to  Agnes,  saying : 

"  It  will  be  several  hours,  my  love,  be- 
fore we  return ;  but,  if  you  should  be  in 
want  of  any  amusement,  go  to  Ellis,  and 
ask  her  to  unlock  the  closet  which  this 
fastens  ;  and  }'ou  may  then  bring  out  of  it 
whatever  you  think  will  please  }Tou." 

Agnes  thanked  her  aunt,  and  soon 
found  abundance  of  entertainment  in  the 
contents  of  the  closet.  As  she  occupied 
herself  in  putting  together  a  map  of  Eng- 
land, which  she  had  taken  from  thence, 
she  could  not  help  thinking  how  kind  it 
was  of  Mrs.  Denham  to  recollect   what 


OR,  HUMILITY.  37 

would  gratify  her,  just  before  she  went 
away  ;  and  what  a  happy  child  she  was 
to  have  those  who  would  be  so  good  to 
her,  even  when  she  was  at  a  distance 
from  her  grand  mama. 

Meantime  Eliza  and  her  aunt  had  ar- 
rived at  Westcote.  Mrs.  Shaen  wished 
that  Agnes  could  have  been  with  them, 
but  she  had  scarcely  expected  to  see 
them  all  on  such  a  wet  morning ;  she 
read  the  little  girl's  letter,  however,  with 
great  pleasure.  In  the  afternoon,  whilst 
Eliza  was  gone  out  into  the  garden  to  look 
again  at  the  beds  which  had  formerly 
been  her  own  and  her  sister's,  and  which 
were  still  kept  for  them,  (for  it  had  clear- 
ed up  sufficiently  for  this  purpose,)  her 
grandmama  and  Mrs.  Denham  talked  to- 
gether for  some  time. 

At  length  it  was  settled  between  them, 
that  if  all  should  be  well,  at  the  end  of 
the  Midsummer  holidays,  (it  was  now  the 
beginning   of  June)    the   two    little   girls 


38  AGNES    AND    ELIZA; 

should  be  sent  to  school  at  Stoke,  a  town 
about  thirty  miles  from  Westcote. 

"  I  think  this  will  decidedly  be  the 
best  plan  for  them,"  said  "Mrs.  Shaen  to 
their  aunt,  "  since  you  find  it  impossible 
to  keep  Eliza  with  you,  and  I  do  not  like 
separating  the  two  sisters.  I  have  heard 
much  of  Mrs.  Wakefield,"  (that  was  the 
name  of  the  lady  who  kept  the  school,) 
"  and  I  will  write  to  her  about  it  this 
evening." 

And  now,  that  I  may  not  make  this 
part  of  my  story  too  long,  I  will  only, 
before  we  follow  Agnes  and  Eliza  to 
school,  stay  to  tell  you  of  their  parting 
with  their  grandmama  ;  for  Mrs.  Denham 
allowed  them  both  to  spend  a  few  days  at 
Westcote  before  they  went  to  Stoke  ;  and 
here  I  will  relate  to  you  what  Mrs.  Shaen 
said  to  them  the  last  evening  they  were 
with  her. 

They  had  just  finished  their  usual  Bible 


OR,  HUMILITY.  39 

reading  with  their  grandmama,  when  she 
spoke  to  them  thus  : 

"  My  dear  children,  I  do  not  know  how 
long  it  may  be  before  I  am  able  thus  to 
hear  you  again ;  but  in  the  meantime  I 
shall  know,  and  you  may  know  it,  too, 
that  when  neither  I  nor  your  aunt  are 
near  you  to  talk  to  and  direct  you,  there 
is  One  always  with  3^ou,  and  always  able 
to  guide  you.  Yet,  remember,  this  is 
God's  promise,"  and  she  looked  espe- 
cially at  Eliza,  "  '  The  meek  will  He  guide 
in  judgment,  and  the  meek  will  He  teach 
His  way.'  There  are  many  blessed  pro- 
mises in  Holy  Scripture,  but  none  are 
made  to  those  who  are  proud,  while  they 
continue  so.  And  yet  we  cannot  make 
ourselves  humble  ;  this  none  but  God  can 
make  us  ;  and  we  never  shall  be  truly  so, 
till  He,  by  leading  us  to  feel  our  sins,  has 
shown  us  what  cause  we  have  to  repent 
of  them.  We  must  first  be  humbled  be- 
fore God,  else,  whatever  we  may  seem  in 


40  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

man's  sight,  there  will  be  no  true  meek- 
ness in  us.  Ask  of  God,  then,  my  chil- 
dren, that  He  will  give  you  a  contrite 
spirit ; — give  it  you,  more  and  more,  every 
day.  And  hear  how  sweetly  He  who  was 
meek  and  lowly  in  heart,  invites  you  to 
.  Him  self,  and  bids  you  follow  His  exam- 
ple. '  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labour, 
and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you 
rest.  Take  my  yoke  upon  you,  and  learn 
of  me.'  I  can  wish  for  you,  my  dear 
children,  no  higher  happiness,  wherever 
you  are,  than  this  : — that  you  may  so  rest 
in  your  Saviour  here,  that  you  may  enjoy 
His  perfect  rest  hereafter  in  heaven." 

Then  Mrs.  Shaen  bid  Agnes  and  Eliza 
good  night ;  and  early  the  next  morning 
they  set  off  to  return  to  their  aunt,  who 
was  to  take  them  with  her  to  school  on 
the  following  day. 


OR5  HUMILITY.  41 


CHAPTER    III. 

As  Agnes  spent  several  years  at  school, 
you,  my  young  readers,  may  perhaps  like 
to  know  a  little  about  the  place  to  which 
she  and  her  sister  were  now  going.  Stoke 
(for  so  we  shall  call  it)  was  a  small  coun- 
try town  ;  it  had  not  the  beauty  of  West- 
cote,  where  the  windows  of  the  neatly- 
thatched  cottages  used  to  peep  out  amidst 
clusters  of  roses  and  honeysuckle,  nor  the' 
wide  views  over  hill  and  dale,  which  the 
children  loved  to  look  down  upon  from 
the  heights  of  Barrow  ;  still,  as  I  before- 
said,  it  was  a  town  ;  and  that  was  a  nov- 
elty to  Agnes  and  Eliza.  Though  the 
shops  in  its  principal  street  were  neither 
many  nor  large,  yet  the  sight  of  them,  in 
6 


42  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

passing,  much  amused  the  little  girls. 
The  school-house,  however,  stood  away 
from  these,  up  a  lane,  called  Stoke-Lane, 
which  led  besides  to  the  church  and  rec- 
tory, which  were  about  three-quarters  of 
a  mile  from  Mrs.  Wakefield's.  In  front 
of  the  house  was  a  large  lawn,  with  beds 
of  fine  flowers,  very  carefully  kept ;  and 
the  windows  at  the  back  looked  on  another 
lawn,  though  not  nearly  so  pretty  a  one  as 
the  former.  Its  shape  was  square,  and  it 
had  only  a  few  flower-beds.  This  was 
the  children's  play-ground.  A  gravel- 
walk  led  round  it,  on  the  other  side  of 
which  were  small  borders,  that  served  for 
the  gardens  of  the  little  girls  ;  and  some 
were  so  neat  and  well-cultivated,  as  to  do 
great  credit  to  the  industry  of  their  own- 
ers. Beyond  this  back-garden  there  was 
a  view  of  the  parish-church  ;  for  the  lane 
of  which  I  have  spoken  wound  so  com- 
pletely round,  that  this  building  and  the 
rectory  were  almost  exactly  opposite  Mrs. 


OR,  HUMILITY.  43 

Wakefield's  house.  In  the  summer  time 
there  was  a  pleasant  walk  to  them  through 
the  fields,  and  over  a  bridge  across  the 
stream  which  ran  below  the  church-yard  ; 
but  in  winter  the  only  way  was  the  longer 
one,  up  Stoke-Lane. 

The  number  of  Mrs.  Wakefield's  pupils 
was  five-and-twenty,  Of  these,  four  or 
five  were  quite  elder  girls,  soon  about  to 
leave  school  altogether ;  the  rest  were 
separated  into  two  divisions,  the  greater 
part  were  between  the  ages  of  ten  and 
fourteen,  but  there  were  seven  younger 
and  less  forward  children,  called  the  little 
ones,  and  these  two  classes  did  not  gene- 
rally mingle  much  one  with  another. 

Agnes  and  Eliza  were  not  accustomed 
to  be  with  little  girls  of  their  own  age, 
and  the  sight  of  so  many  new  faces  was 
at  first  rather  strange  to  them ;  but,  as 
they  were  not  naturally  shy,  the  thought 
of  a  number  of  companions  pleased  them, 
and  eagerly  did  they  watch  the  proceed- 


44  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

ings  around  them  the  first  evening  they 
were  at  Stoke.  They  were  somewhat 
disappointed,  however,  on  the  following 
morning,  to  find  themselves,  after  a  little 
examination  by  Miss  Wakefield,  placed 
b}^  her  in  the  lowest  class  ;  for  their  age 
had  led  them  to  expect  a  higher  position. 
They  were  the  more  sorry  for  this,  be- 
cause they  had  already  formed  a  high 
idea  of  the  kindness  and  ability  of  the 
eldest  Miss  Wakefield ;  and  the  little 
ones,  with  whom  they  were  now  ranked, 
were  not  taught  by  her,  but  by  her  sister, 
Miss  Charlotte.  Mrs.  Wakefield  herself, 
though  a  very  active  person,  found  enough 
to  occupy  her  time  in  the  management  of 
the  domestic  concerns  of  the  house  ;  she 
consequently  bore  no  part  in  the  instruc- 
tion of  the  children,  and  seldom  took 
much  notice  of  them,  unless  they  were 
ill. 

Her   first    disappointment    almost   de- 
stroyed the  hopes  of  happiness  at  school 


OR,  HUMILITY.  45 

which  Eliza  had  conceived  ;  and  she  soon 
found  an  opportunity  of  uttering  her 
complaints  to  her  sister  in  this  way  : 

Eliza.  Is  it  not  vexing,  Agnes,  that  we 
are  put  down  just  at  the  bottom  of  the 
school,  and  among  such  children,  too  ? 
Why,  do  you  know,  there  is  one  really 
not  eight  years  old. 

Agnes.  I  am  very  sorry  for  it,  Eliza  ; 
and  the  more,  because  there  are  one  or 
two  little  girls  of  just  our  age  in  the  next 
class,  whom  I  was  wishing  so  much  to 
know  ;  and  now  I  shall  see  scarcely  any- 
thing of  them,  I  am  afraid. 

Eliza.  Well,  I  am  sure  I  shall  not  do 
much  amongst  such  babies  ;  and  it  is  not 
worth  while  to  try  ;  I  should  be  sure  to 
get  before  them,  if  I  did,  and  yet  I  should 
not  be  moved,  I  dare  say. 

Agnes.  Oh,  but  Eliza,  we  should  not 
talk  so.  Miss  Wakefield  mast  know  best 
where  we  ought  to  be  ;  and  very  likely 
there  are   several  nice  children  amongst 


46  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

these  whom  you  seem  to  despise  ;  some, 
perhaps,  from  whom  we  may  be  glad  to 
learn.  At  all  events  we  can  try  to  be- 
have kindly  to  them. 

But  Eliza  appeared  determined  to  keep 
her  naughty  resolution.  She  took  no 
pains  with  her  lessons,  and  the  younger 
Miss  Wakefield,  in  consequence,  scarcely 
noticed  her,  for  that  lady  was  apt  to  over- 
look children  who  were  not  bright  or 
attentive  ;  and,  imagining  the  little  pro- 
gress Eliza  made  in  her  pursuits  to  be  oc- 
casioned by  a  natural  want  of  ability,  she 
left  the  little  girl  very  much  to  follow  her 
own  way.  So,  although  she  was  by  no 
means  a  favorite  in  the  school,  she  avoided 
for  some  time  any  particular  trouble. 

The  chief  events  of  the  half  year  with 
which  we  are  concerned  at  present,  were 
two  misfortunes  which  happened  to  Ag- 
nes ;  perhaps,  however,  I  should  hardly 
call  them  misfortunes,  since  they  were 
the  consequence  of  her  own  faults.     The 


OR,  HUMILITY.  47 

first  took  place  not  long  after  her  arrival 
at  Miss  Wakefield's,  in  the  manner  which 
I  am  about  to  relate. 

One  fine  summer's  afternoon,  it  being  a 
half-holiday,  all  the  children,  younger  and 
older,  had  joined  together  in  a  game  of 
play.  Such  a  circumstance  but  rarely 
occurred,  and  perhaps  on  that  account  the 
little  girls  enjoyed  it  the  more  on  the 
present  occasion.  The  game  which  they 
chose  was  a  very  exciting  one  ;  the  school 
divided  itself  into  two  parties,  to  each  of 
which  was  allotted  half  of  the  play- 
ground. They  dignified  themselves  by 
the  names  of  two  different  nations,  and 
the  war  between  them  was  carried  on  by 
the  endeavour  on  each  side  to  make  pris- 
oners of  such  as  chose  to  expose  them- 
selves on  the  enemy's  ground  ;  nor  was 
it  ended  till  a  decisive  victory  had  been 
gained  by  whichever  party  was  fortunate 
enough  thus  to  capture  and  confine  the 
entire  number  of  its  foes. 


48  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

Among  the  little  girls  foremost  in  enter- 
ing into  the  amusement,  was  Emily  Gar- 
diner, a  child  a  }rear  and  a  half  older 
than  Agnes.  She  was  very  lively  and 
entertaining,  and  generally  thought  ami- 
able,— quick  at  her  lessons,  yet  fond  of 
play  ;  moreover,  her  powers  as  a  runner 
were  in  high  repute  through  the  school, 
so  that  now  each  party  was  anxious  to 
secure  her  for  itself.  The  matter,  how- 
ever, was  soon  settled,  and  then  Emily 
and  Agnes  found  themselves  placed  on 
opposite  sides. 

After  many  an  escape  and  many  a  cap- 
ture, these  two  little  girls  were  left  to 
maintain  the  honour  of  their  respective 
nations  alone,  the  companions  of  both 
being  alike  prisoners.  Emily,  not  at 
once  perceiving  this,  ventured  rather  in- 
cautiously into  the  territory  of  Agnes ; 
the  latter  instantly  seized  the  advantage, 
and  succeeded  in  claiming  her  as  a  pris- 
oner, and  thus  putting  an  end  to  the  war. 


OR,  HUMILITY.  49 

There  was  a  general  shout  of  congratula- 
tion from  her  young  friends  who  witness- 
ed her  victory. 

"Oh,  Agnes!"  cried  Emily,  "let  me 
go.  I  am  not  your  prisoner.  You  have 
been  running  over  that  flower-bed,  and 
that  is  not  fair." 

*  "Let  her  go!  let  her  go!"  exclaimed 
several  voices  at  once.  "  How  could  you 
do  such  a  thing,  you  unfair  child,  and 
then  say  you  have  conquered  ?" 

"  But  I  did  not  think  that  it  was  un- 
fair," replied  Agnes.  "You  know  that 
this  is  the  first  time  I  have  played.  And, 
besides,  I  should  have  caught  Emily  just 
the  same  without  running  over  any  bed. 
Look !"  (and  she  showed  her  compan- 
ions,) "  it  could  not  make  the  least  differ- 
ence." 

Several  voices  were  here  raised  in  be- 
half of  Agnes,  and.  the  matter  was  finally 
brought  before  one  of  the  elder  girls,  who 
had  been  chosen  as  umpire  to  settle  dis- 
7 


50  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

putes.  She  pronounced  that,  owing  to 
Agnes'  mistake,  the  victory  was  to  be 
considered  undecided ;  but  added,  that 
she  fully  believed  the  child  to  be  guilty 
only  of  a  mistake,  and  of  one,  moreover, 
which  had  given  her  no  advantage  what- 
ever in  her  race  with  her  companion. 

This  opinion  by  no  means  satisfied 
Emily  ;  and,  as  she  walked  with  Agnes 
from  the  play -ground,  she  continued  to 
reproach  her,  in  a  very  angry  tone,  for 
what  she  called  her  unfairness  and  de- 
ception. 

*  It  will  be  a  long  time,  Agnes,  I  hope," 
she  said,  "  before  the  great  girls  allow 
you  to  play  with  them  again." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Agnes,  a  good  deal 
provoked  ;  "  at  all  events  I  will  not  play 
with  you  in  a  hurry,  Emily." 

What  the  reply  was  Agnes  did  not  stay 
to  hear,  for  she  ran  away  in  a  violent  pas- 
sion. During  the  remainder  of  the  eve- 
ning,  some  of  her  young  companions  were 


OR,  HUMILITY.  51 

praising  her  for  the  part  she  had  taken 
in  the  game.  The  history  of  it  was  re- 
lated to  Miss  Wakefield,  who  commended 
the  child  for  her  agility  and  activity. 

But  Agnes  was  not  happy.  She  felt 
that  she  had  done  wrong,  and  that  Emily 
had  done  so,  too,  did  not  make  her  own 
fault  the  less.  These  were  her  feelings 
as  she  went  up-stairs  for  the  night ;  and 
then  the  thought  came  into  her  mind,  how 
could  she  seek  pardon  in  her  prayer  that 
evening,  if  she  were  too  proud  to  ask  for- 
giveness of  the  person  she  had  offended  ? 
She  resolved,  therefore,  to  go  and  find 
Emily,  who  slept  alone  in  the  room  next 
her  own.  She  knocked  at  the  door  which 
separated  the  two. 

"  Emily,  may  I  speak  to  you  V 

"  Yes,  come  in,"  was  the  answer. 

"  Emily,"  whispered  Agnes,  "  I  am 
come  to  beg  your  pardon  for  what  I  said 
to  you  to-day  in  the  garden.  Will  you 
forgive  me  ?" 


52  AGNES    AND    ELIZA; 

Now  had  the  little  girl  been  asked  this 
question  at  another  time,  or  by  any  one 
else,  she  would  probably  at  once  have 
forgotten  her  anger,  and  only  blamed  her- 
self for  the  quarrel.  But  her  pride  had 
been  wounded  by  her  defeat  that  day  in 
the  game  ;  and,  besides,  she  was  really 
glad  that  by  the  improper  way  in  which 
Agnes  had  then  spoken,  she  had  given 
some  ground  for  that  dislike  which  Emily 
had  long  allowed  herself  to  feel  towards 
her,  without  knowing  the  reason  of  it. 
So  she  only  answered  very  coolly,  "  Oh  ! 
you  are  sorry  now,  Agnes,  are  you  V9 

Agnes.  Yes,  Emily  ;  and  you  forgive 
me,  do  you  not  ? 

Emily.  Oh,  certainly  ;  but  I  shall  take 
care  that  you  have  no  occasion  to  ask  my 
forgiveness  in  future. 

Little  Agnes  crept  back  to  her  room, 
and  began  crying ;  she  thought  that 
Emily  was  unkind,  and,  what  was  worse, 
that  this  unkindness  was  the  consequence 


OR,  HUMILITY.  53 

of  her  own  fault.  "  No  one  was  near 
me,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  to  reprove  me 
to-day  in  the  garden,  and  perhaps  no  one 
knew  what  a  passion  I  was  in  when  I 
spoke  to  Emily  ;  but  I  am  being  punished 
now,  by  her  coldness,  and  my  own  feel- 
ings." 

Perhaps  here,  my  readers,  you  may 
wonder  that  Agnes  should  think  so  much 
about  what  appears  to  you  so  slight  a 
thing.  But  thus  it  is  that,  whether  young 
or  old,  those  who  are  best  feel  most  when 
they  have  done  wrong  ;  for  their  Heavenly 
Father  would  make  use  of  that  sorrow  to 
keep  them  from  again  falling  into  sin  ; 
and  far  more  unhappy  are  they  who  can 
offend  Him,  and  not  grieve. 

Agnes  ceased  crying  as  she  knelt  to  re- 
peat her  evening  prayer  ;  and  then  she 
especially  sought  pardon  for  the  sinful 
temper  to  which  she  had  that  day  yielded, 
for  His  sake,  "  who,  when  He  was  re- 
viled, reviled  not  again  ;"  and,  soon  after 


54  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

she  had  laid  herself  down,  she  fell 
asleep. 

Day  after  day  passed  on  after  this,  at 
Mrs.  Wakefield's,  much  the  same  as  for- 
mer ones  had  done  ;  but  they  did  not  feel 
the  same  to  little  Agnes,  for  it  seemed  to 
her  now  as  though  she  had  an  enemy  in 
the  school;  and  one,  too,  whom  she  had 
made  so  in  part  herself.  Emily  always 
avoided  speaking  to  her,  and  took  pleas- 
ure in  saying  unkind  things  about  her, 
and  laughing  at  her  ;  and  this  vexed  her 
much.  She  had  learned,  however,  by 
what  had  lately  happened,  not  to  suffer 
herself  again  to  be  easily  provoked  ;  and 
so  she  went  on  quietly,  hoping  that  be- 
fore long  something  or  other  would  occur 
which  might  reconcile  Emily  to  her.  She 
had  first,  however,  another  lesson  to  learn, 
and  one  which  cost  her  much. 

One  of  the  pleasantest  occupations  of 
Agnes' s  young  companions  was  garden- 
ing.    I  have  already  told  you  how  pretty 


OR,  HUMILITY.  55 

their  little  flower-beds  were,  and  to  make 
them  so,  required  some  labour,  but  that 
labour  was  an  enjoyment.  Agnes' s  gar- 
den especially  was  her  delight.  Often- 
times did  the  sight  of  her  roses  drive  from 
her  remembrance  the  difficulties  of  the 
morning's  lesson  ;  and  many  a  favourite 
poem  became  dearer  to  her  as  she  repeat- 
ed it  whilst  working  among  them.  A 
succession  of  wet  days  in  the  beginning 
of  September  confined  the  children  to  the 
house  ;  and,  when  the  weather  began  a 
little  to  clear,  it  was  still  too  damp  to  al- 
low of  their  doing  more  than  walking  in 
the  driest  part  of  the  grounds.  Mrs. 
Wakefield,  therefore,  expressly  forbade 
them  to  employ  themselves  again  in  their 
gardens  without  her  permission.  The 
following  Sunday  the  sun  rose  brightly 
and  warmly  ;  the  moist  roads  and  fields 
soon  felt  the  glad  effect  of  his  beams  ;  so 
that  the  next  morning,  when  the  little 
girls  went  out  to  play  at  their  usual  hour, 


■56  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

the  garden  seemed  quite  a  different  place  ; 
the  ground  dry,  and  almost  hard.  Agnes 
happened  to  be  the  first  in  the  play- 
ground that  day ;  she  was  delighted  at 
the  change,  and  her  instant  thought  was 
of  her  garden.  In  her  eagerness  she  for- 
got that  not  the  fine  weather  alone,  but 
Mrs.  Wakefield's  permission  was  neces- 
sary before  she  might  work  in  it  again. 
So,  arming  herself  with  a  hoe,  to  root  out 
the  weeds,  which  had  sprung  up  abun- 
dantly during  the  late  rain,  she  was  soon 
diligently  occupied. 

Presently  some  of  her  younger  school- 
fellows came  running  out : 

"  Look  !  look !  there  is  Agnes  garden- 
ing," they  cried  ;  "  then  Mrs.  Wakefield 
has  given  us  leave  ;"  and  forthwith  two 
or  three  hurried  off  for  their  tools. 

"  I  shall  go  and  ask  her  first,"  said  one 
child  ;  "  but  no,  I  won't  take  that  trouble 
either  ;  I  dare  say  it  is  all  right ;"  and  so 
she  followed  the  example  of  the  rest. 


OR,  HUMILITY.  57 

Now  it  happened  that  Agnes' s  garden 
lay  quite  away  from  those  of  her  com- 
panions ;  for,  on  her  first  coming  to  school, 
she  had  begged  so  hard  that  she  might 
be  allowed  a  large  piece  of  ground  to 
herself,  that  part  of  a  bed,  commonly 
shared  by  the  elder  girls,  had  been  allot- 
ted to  her ;  and,  consequently,  now  she 
neither  saw  nor  heard  what  her  little 
friends  were  doing. 

Presently  Eliza,  pleased  with  an  occa- 
sion on  which  to  make  herself  of  import- 
ance, hastened  to  one  and  another  to  give 
them  notice  that  they  must  instantly  leave 
off  their  employment,  or  fall  under  Mrs. 
Wakefield's  displeasure.  But  this  un- 
welcome advice  was  received  rather  cold- 
ly :  "  Go  and  ask  Agnes,"  was  the  reply  ; 
"  we  shall  do  as  she  does." 

"  Agnes  !  Agnes  !"   cried    Eliza,    quite 

out  of  breath  with  running  ;  "  what  is  it 

you   are   about  ?     Don't   you   remember 

how   expressly   Mrs.    Wakefield   forbade 

8 


58  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  J 

our  gardening  till  she  gave  us  leave ;  and 
when  have  you  heard  her  do  so  V 

"  Oh,  dear  !"  answered  Agnes,  "  I  quite 
forgot ;  but  what  shall  I  do  ?" 

"  Do,"  replied  her  sister,  "  why,  stop, 
to  be  sure  ;  and  I  must  go  and  get  the 
other  children  to  do  the  same,  whom  you 
made  to  begin." 

"  I  made  !"  exclaimed  Agnes. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Eliza,  "  certainly  you 
did  ;  for  they  saw  you  gardening,  and  set 
to  work  themselves." 

But  Eliza's  admonition  was  rather  late  ; 
for  Mrs.  Wakefield  had  already  seen 
what  the  little  girls  were  doing,  and  called 
them  to  her.  She  was  a  person  who  did 
not  often  interfere  with,  or  give  orders  to 
the  children  ;  and  therefore,  when  she  did 
so,  she  was  the  more  particular  in  exact- 
ing obedience. 

Before  Agnes  could  reach  the  house, 
four,  out  of  her  six  companions,  who^had 
been  guilty  on  the  present  occasion,  had 


OR,  HUMILITY.  59 

excused  themselves  to  Mrs.  Wakefield  by 
her  example. 

On  her  entrance,  however,  that  lady  in- 
stantly turned  to  her  :  "  And  you,  Agnes, 
whom  did  you  see,  or  what  led  you  to 
disobey  me  7" 

Agnes  did  not  answer. 

"  Were  you  the  first,  Agnes,  in  the  gar- 
den this  morning?" 

"  Yes,  Ma'am." 

"  And  what  could  make  you  think  of 
gardening  there,  when  I  had  forbidden 
it  ?" 

Agnes,  being  a  little  frightened,  made 
no  reply  till  Mrs.  Wakefield  repeated  her 
question,  and  then  she  said  : 

"  Indeed,  Ma'am,  I  am  very  sorry  ;  but 
just  then  I  did  not  remember  what  you 
had  told  us.  When  I  went  out,  it  looked 
so  fine  and  dry,  I  only  thought  of  that." 

Mrs.  Wakefield.  You  are  sure  this 
was  the  case,  Agnes  ? 

Agnes.  Yes,  quite  sure,  Ma'am. 


60  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

Mrs.  Wakefield.  "  Ver}^  well ;  I  will 
endeavour  to  make  you  remember  better 
in  future.  I  am  sorry,  Agnes,  that  by 
your  forgetfulness  you  have  involved  your 
companions  also  in  difficulty.  You  should 
have  been  more  careful,  children,"  she 
said,  turning  towards  them,  "to  ascertain 
the  truth.  And  now  I  forbid  you  all  to 
garden  for  the  next  fortnight ;  and,  as  you 
cannot  be  trusted  with  your  tools,  I  will 
keep  them  for  you  for  that  time.  And 
you,  Agnes,"  continued  Mrs.  Wakefield, 
"  as  this  is  the  first  time  you  have  diso- 
beyed me,  so  I  hope  it  will  be  the  last. 
But  I  shall  take  }rour  garden  quite  away 
from  you  for  this  autumn  ;  next  summer, 
I  trust,  you  will  be  a  less  forgetful  child." 

As  the  little  girls,  having  brought  their 
garden  implements  to  Mrs.  Wakefield, 
walked  slowly  into  the  school-room,  some 
of  them  began  to  speak  very  rudely  to 
Agnes,  and  to  blame  her  as  the  sole  cause 
of  their  punishment.     Indeed,  their  voices 


OR,  HUMILITY.  61 

were  so  loud,  that,  had  Mrs.  Wakefield 
been  near,  they  would  probably  have  in- 
curred her  displeasure  again.  Emily 
soon  learnt  the  cause  of  their  anger,  and, 
instead  of  trying  to  soothe  it,  strove  to 
excite  it  the  more,  and  joined  in  their  re- 
proaches and  complaints  against  Agnes. 
Two  little  girls,  however,  took  no  part  in 
these  proceedings  ;  one  was  Lucy  Sey- 
mour, rather  younger  than  Agnes,  of 
whom  she  was  very  fond  ;  the  other  was 
Jane  Stevenson,  a  good  child,  who  did 
not  like  to  blame  another  when  she  felt 
that  she  had  herself  been  wrong  ;  so  she 
remained  silent.  But  Lucy  could  not 
stand  so  quietly  by. 

"Oh,  Emily!"  she  cried,  "how  can 
you  say  that  Agnes  is  always  getting 
people  into  trouble  ?  You  do  not  know 
how  often  she  helps  us,  nor  how  much 
she  does  for  us." 

"  Indeed  I   do   not,"    replied   Emily ; 


62  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

"  and  I  should  like  to  hear  who  does  be- 
sides yourself,  Lucy  ?" 

"Oh!  I  do,"  said  little  Jane  ;  "  and  so 
do  the  others,  too,  only  they  will  not  tell 
you  so  now." 

Thus  the  children  went  on,  some 
blaming,  and  some  excusing,  and  some 
praising  Agnes,  who  had,  in  the  mean- 
time, made  her  escape  into  the  inner 
school-room,  which  she  found  deserted. 
Here  a  bright  thought  entered  her  mind, 
and  a  little  comforted  her,  when  the  door 
was  opened  by  Lucy. 

"Agnes,"  she  said,  "I  am  come  to 
fetch  you  back  again  ;  and  you  need  not 
mind,  for  the  little  girls  will  not  speak 
unkindly  to  you  any  more  ;  they  would 
not  have  said  half  so  much  to  you  just 
now,  had  not  Emily  been  there.  I  can- 
not think  why  Emily  behaves  to  yon  so 
differently  from  her  way  generally." 

"  Oh !  that  is  my  fault,  too,  partly  at 
least,"  answered  Agnes. 


OR,  HUMILITY.  63 

"  Well,  never  mind  ;  come,  now,  and 
forget  her,  will  you  not  V  repeated  her 
friend. 

"  Not  yet,  Lucy,"  replied  Agnes.  "  I 
have  thought  of  something,  and  I  will  do 
it,  too  ;  for  I  cannot  bear  that  you  should 
all  be  punished  on  my  account ;  so  I  will 
go  to  Mrs.  Wakefield,  and  ask  her  to  let 
you  have  your  gardens  again  ;  and  then 
she  may  do  what  she  pleases  with  me 
instead." 

"  That  will  be  quite  useless,  Agnes," 
exclaimed  Lucy.  "lam  sure,  I  hope,  it 
will." 

But  Agnes  was  deaf  to  the  remon- 
strance of  her  friend.  She  found  a  happy 
opportunity  of  speaking  to  Mrs.  Wake- 
field, and  made  her  request  accordingly. 

"  No,  Agnes,"  was  the  answer  ;  "  it  is 
right  that  your  companions  should  suffer 
for  their  carelessness  ;  and,  as  you  have 
led  them  into  a  fault,  you  must  bear  this 
as  a  part,  perhaps  to  you  the  worst  part, 


64  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  J 

of  your  punishment.  One  thing,  however, 
I  will  tell  you.  I  do  not  think  your  little 
schoolfellows  would  have  been  so  ready 
to  follow  }^our  example,  had  you  not  al- 
ready gained  the  character  of  a  good  and 
obedient  child.  I  hope,  therefore,  that 
the  influence  you  have  over  them  may 
some  day  be  used  to  better  purpose." 

These  words  of  Mrs.  Wakefield  made 
a  deep  impression  on  Agnes.  Before  this 
time,  she  had  always  endeavoured  to  do 
what  was  right,  without  considering  who 
might  be  near  her ;  but  now  another 
thought  came  into  her  mind, — that  the 
children  round  her  might  sometimes  copy 
her  actions,  and  do  what  she  did ;  and 
this  made  her  the  more  anxious  to  behave 
always  as  she  ought. 

Often,  after  this,  as  she  looked  at  her 
now  desolate  garden,  she  was  made  hum- 
ble by  the  remembrance  of  having  once 
been  the  means  of  leading  her  companions 
into  disobedience  ;  and  she  wished  within 


OR,  HUMILITY. 


65 


herself,  that  it  were  as  easy  to  persuade 
others  to  good,  as  it  is  to  induce  them  to 
evil. 

But  I  have  made  this  chapter  already 
sufficiently  long ;  the  conclusion  of  the 
half-year  shall,  therefore,  form  the  subject 
of  another. 


66  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 


CHAPTER    IV. 

By  this  time,  perhaps,  my  readers  are 
wishing  to  know  something  more  of  Eliza, 
of  whom  they  have  heard  lately  but  little. 
Indeed  I  have  nothing  very  pleasant  to 
relate  about  her.  She  had  become  sadly 
idle  ;  for  not  finding  it  so  easy  as  she  had 
imagined,  to  get  before  the  little  girls 
amongst  whom  she  was  placed,  she  gave 
up  the  attempt,  and  contented  herself  with 
thinking  and  saying  to  Agnes,  that,  when 
there  was  a  prospect  of  her  being  moved 
into  the  next  class,  it  would  be  seen  how 
much  better  she  could  do. 

Sometimes,  indeed,  the  example  of  her 
sister  roused  in  her  better  thoughts  ;  for 
Agnes  was   growing  very  diligent ;    she 


OR,  HUMILITY.  67 

felt  that  she  had  much  to  learn,  and  she 
was  willing  to  learn  from  every  one,  and 
very  grateful  to  those  who  would  show 
her  anything  she  did  not  know.  Eliza 
would  often  at  first  wish  to  be  like  her  ;  she 
was  naturally  extremely  fond  of  her  sis- 
ter ;  and  although  now  and  then  compari- 
sons, rather  mortifying  to  herself,  were 
drawn  between  them,  (as  a  reproof  given 
to  Eliza  was  usually  followed  by  a  com- 
mendation bestowed  upon  Agnes,)  yet 
Agnes  all  the  while  behaved  so  kindly  to 
her,  and  seemed  so  ignorant  of  the  differ- 
ence which  others  saw  in  them,  that  Eliza 
felt  almost  inclined  to  love  her  the  more. 
But  her  foolish  pride  turned  from  the 
thought  of  being  led  by  one  not  older 
than  herself ;  and  still  less  could  she  bear 
the  idea  of  her  companions  observing  that 
she  was  so.  "No,"  said  she  to  herself; 
"  I  will  follow  my  own  way,  not  Agnes' s. 
T  dare  say  mine  will  be  as  good  in  the 
end." 


68  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

One  day,  when  Eliza  was  in  somewhat 
a  better  mood,  the  following  conversation 
took  place  between  the  sisters  : 

Eliza.  Don't  you  think,  Agnes,  that 
Miss  Charlotte  is  kinder  to  you  now  than 
she  used  to  be  ? 

Agnes.  I  know  more  of  her  now,  and 
so,  perhaps,  that  is  the  reason  why  I  can 
please  her  better. 

Eliza.  But  I  know  more  of  her,  too, 
and  yet  I  never  can  please  her. 

Agnes.  Do  not  say  never,  Eliza;  you 
can  when  you  really  try,  I  think.  Why, 
she  was  pleased  with  you  this  morning. 

Eliza.  Yes,  but  I  shall  make  her  angry 
again  to-morrow.  And  so  it  is  with 
everybody  else.  Agnes,  dear,  I  cannot 
please  people  as  you  can. 

Agnes.  Oh !  Eliza,  I  am  sure  you 
could  if  you  would  try.  But  sometimes 
I  fancy  you  do  not  wish  it. 

Eliza.  Well,  no  more  I  do,  for  I  see  it  is 
impossible,  and  therefore  I  give  up  trying. 


OR,  HUMILITY.  69 

Agnes.  But,  Eliza,  even  if  you  knew 
that  you  could  not  succeed,  still  you 
might  try. 

Eliza.  Why,  where  would  be  the  use 
of  that  ?     What  do  you  mean,  Agnes  ? 

Agnes.  I  mean,  dear,  that  we  should 
endeavour  to  please  others,  because  it  is 
right  to  do  so,  and  not  merely  for  the 
sake  of  gaining  their  favour ;  and  there- 
fore, though  we  were  quite  sure  that  we 
should  fail  in  this,  still  the  chief  reason 
for  trying  would  remain  the  same. 

Eliza.  Oh  !  but,  Agnes,  I  am  not  like 
you.  I  cannot  do  a  thing  because  it  is 
right ;  I  want  some  reward,  or  some 
praise,  for  doing  it. 

Agnes.  Well,  then,  Eliza,  remember 
what  a  reward  those  who  do  right  now 
will  have  at  last.  But,  besides,  it  often 
seems  to  me  such  a  great  thing  for  chil- 
dren like  us  to  be  able  to  please  God ; 
perhaps  you  do  not  understand  me,  but  I 
mean  that  I  think  God  is  so  very  good  in 


70  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

letting  us  try  to  please  Him  ;  so  very 
good  to  give  us  strength  on  purpose  to 
try,  when  we  have  none  of  our  own. 

Eliza.  Oh  !  Agnes,  I  never  have  such 
thoughts.  I  cannot  understand  how  it  is 
that  }rou  do. 

Agnes.  How  I  wish  you  had  them, 
too,  Eliza.  I  scarcely  know  how  I  should 
go  on  without  them,  because  it  makes  me 
so  happy  to  believe,  that,  by  every  little 
thing  I  do  I  may  please  Him  who  always 
sees  me  ;  and  it  is  such  a  comfort,  if 
others  mistake  the  reasons  of  any  of  my 
actions,  and  therefore  are  vexed  with  me, 
to  remember  that  no  such  cause  can 
make  God  angry  with  me. 

"  I  wish  that  I  were  like  you,  Agnes," 
thought  Eliza ;  but  she  did  not  express 
her  thought ;  she  only  said  :  "  Agnes,  I 
see  we  are  quite  different." 

A  short  time  after  this  conversation,  it 
happened  that  Emily  Gardiner  was  sum- 
moned home,  owing  to  the   illness  of  a 


OR,  HUMILITY.  71 

cousin,  which  proved  fatal.  She  was 
therefore  kept  from  Mrs.  Wakefield's 
some  little  time ;  and  on  her  return, 
though  still  lively,  she  did  not  seem  quite 
so  eager  and  playful  as  before.  During 
her  absence  a  new  game  had  been  intro- 
duced into  the  school,  and  some  of  the 
children  had  new  hoops  made  on  purpose 
for  it,  (for  it  was  played  with  these.)  A 
day  or  two  after  Emily  came  back,  some 
circumstances  prevented  both  Miss  Wake- 
fields  and  their  mother  from  taking  their 
pupils  on  their  usual  walk ;  so  they  were 
left  to  play  in  the  garden.  The  new 
game  was  instantly  proposed,  and  one  of 
her  companions  explained  it  to  Emily. 
Agnes  was  standing  by,  and,  as  she  look- 
ed up  at  Emily's  mourning,  she  could 
hardly  believe  her  to  be  still  a  child,  with 
the  same  feelings,  as  at  the  time  of  their 
quarrel  a  few  weeks  before. 

"  Oh  !"    answered   Emily,    "  I   cannot 
play,  I  have  no  hoop  ;  besides,  I  did'  not 


12  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  J 

intend  to  play  again  with  Agnes." 

The  tears  came  into  Agnes's  eyes  ;  but 
she  hid  them,  and  ran  away.  Presently 
she  returned,  bringing  her  hoop  with  her. 

"Emily,"  she  said,  "  I  am  not  going  to 
play,  so  will  you  take  this  ?  I  have 
brought  it  on  purpose  for  you." 

"  No,"  was  the  reply,  "  I  do  not  wish 
to  play  to-day  ;  I  had  rather  walk  quiet- 
ly ;  so  keep  your  hoop  for  yourself ;  but 
thank  you,  Agnes,  all  the  same." 

There  was  something  in  Emily's  man- 
ner, more  than  her  words,  which  made 
Agnes  feel  happy,  as  she  joined  her  com- 
panions ;  for  she  thought  that  she  had  at 
last  persuaded  Emily  to  forget  their 
former  quarrel.  Nor  was  she  mistaken. 
The  next  time  the  two  children  were 
alone  together,  Emily  began  talking  to 
Agnes  thus  : 

Emily.  Agnes,  I  have  something  which 
I  want  to  say  to  you. 


OR,  HUMILITY.  73 

Ag-nes.  Well,  let  me  hear  it,  then, 
Emily. 

Emily.  But,  before  I  tell  you  what  it  is, 
you  must  answer  me  one  question.  Agnes, 
do  you  think  you  ever  could  love  me  ? 

Agnes.  Why,  Emily,  what  do  you 
mean  ?  To  be  sure  I  could,  if  you  would 
let  me. 

Emily.  Then,  Agnes,  I  am  very  sorry 
indeed  for  the  way  in  which  T  have  been 
behaving  to  you  all  this  time  ;  but  if  you 
think  you  can  forget  it,  and  forgive  me, 
I  will  not  go  on  thus  any  longer. 

Agnes.  Oh  !  Emily,  I  shall  be  so  glad 
to  forget  it,  and  to  think  that  you  do  not 
dislike  me  so  much  as  I  once  believed 
you  did. 

Emily.  Pray  do  not  imagine  that  I  dis- 
like you  now,  Agnes,  or  you  will  be  quite 
mistaken,"  replied  Emily  ;  and  here  the 
conversation  was  interrupted. 

But,  though  Emily  said  no  more  then, 
her  manner  towards  Agnes  from  that  time 
10 


74  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ', 

was  quite  altered.  It  was  a  delightful 
change  to  the  latter,  who  now  began  to 
like  school  very  much.  Miss  Charlotte 
Wakefield,  finding  her  attentive,  and  de- 
sirous to  improve,  had  grown  quite  at- 
tached to  her  ;  the  elder  girls  liked  her, 
because  she  never  spoke  rudely  to  them, 
and  was  always  obliging  in  doing  what 
they  asked  her ;  and  she  had,  besides, 
one  or  two  little  friends  who  were  her 
constant  companions.  About  this  time, 
too,  she  enjoyed  a  great  pleasure  in  the 
receipt  of  a  note  from  Mrs.  Shaen.  That 
lady  had  lately  written  to  Mrs.  Wakefield, 
to  inquire  how  the  little  girls  were  going 
on ;  and,  receiving  in  reply  a  particularly 
good  account  of  Agnes,  she  had  sent  her 
a  letter  by  way  of  encouragement.  The 
child  was  delighted  at  the  idea  of  having 
gratified  her  grandmama,  and  she  thought 
how  good  her  Heavenly  Father  was  in 
giving  her  these  lesser  rewards  for  doing 
right,  and  hoped  that  all  the  things  which 


OR,  HUMILITY.  75 

made  her  so  happy  just  now,  came  from 
Him  as  marks  of  His  favour  ;  for  she  had 
heard  her  grandmama  say  that  we  ought 
to  look  upon  blessings  in  this  way. 

But  I  have  not  yet  mentioned  one  thing 
at  Mrs.  Wakefield's,  which  was  a  source 
of  pleasure  to  Agnes.  Mr.  Sanderson, 
the  Rector  of  Stoke,  was  a  very  excellent 
man ;  and,  whilst  he  endeavoured  to  at- 
tend most  carefully  to  the  wants  of  all  his 
flock,  he  took  especial  pains  with  the 
young  ;  the  children  of  his  poorer  parish- 
ioners he  catechised  every  Sunday  in 
church,  and  saw  them  often  besides,  at 
their  own  homes  and  at  school ;  and  he 
by  no  means  neglected  Mrs.  Wakefield's 
little  household,  calling  in  from  time  to 
time,  and  speaking  to  one  and  another  of 
her  pupils.  He  likewise  paid  regular  vis- 
its at  the  school,  at  more  fixed  intervals  ; 
and  to  these  Agnes  and  several  of  her 
companions  used  to  look  forward  with 
delight.     On  such  occasions,   during  the 


76  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

last  and  the  present  half-year,  Mr.  Sander- 
son had  been  going  through  the  Catechism, 
*and  explaining  it.  He  had  now  got  as 
far  as  the  middle  of  the  answer  to  the 
question  :  "  What  is  thy  duty  towards  thy 
neighbour  ?"  and  here  I  will  relate  to  you 
what  he  said  upon  that  part  of  it :  "  To 
order  myself  lowly  and  reverently  to  all 
my  betters." 

Mr.  Sanderson.  Can  you  tell  me,  chil- 
dren, what  is  the  difference  between  the 
meaning  of  this  and  the  last  clause  :  "  To 
submit  myself  to  all  my  governors,  teach- 
ers, spiritual  pastors,  and  masters  V" 

"  That  told  us  only  how  we  should  act 
towards  our  teachers  and  masters ;  and 
this  says  in  what  way  we  should  behave 
'  to  all  our  betters.'  " 

Mr.  Sanderson.  Very  true.  This 
speaks  -  more  generally  than  the  former 
clause ;  but  there  is  another  difference 
between  them  ;  do  you  know  what  it  is  ? 

The  children  were  silent. 


OR,  HUMILITY.  77 

Mr.  Saxdersox.  What  were  the  duties 
commanded  you  in  that  part :  "  To  sub- 
mit myself,"  &c.  ? 

"  Submission — obedience." 

Mr.  Saxdersox.  Right ;  now  here  you 
are  taught  how  you  should  show  that 
spirit  of  submission  in  your  manner. 
And  there  are  two  words  made  use  of  to 
express  that  manner.  You  are  to  order 
yourselves, — how  ? 

"Lowly  and  reverently." 

Mr.  Saxdersox.  Do  these  two  words 
mean  the  same  thing  ? 

"  Yes,  sir.     No,  sir." 

Mr.  Saxdersox.  Not  quite.  I  will  ex- 
plain this  to  you :  lowly  refers  to  your- 
selves ;  you  should  think  humbly  of  your- 
selves, and  that  will  make  your  manner 
quiet  and  gentle  ;  reverently  has  regard  to 
others  ;  you  should  think  of  them  in  this 
way,  and  that  will  make  your  manner  to- 
wards them  respectful.  Do  you  under- 
stand me,  children  ? 


78  4GNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

"Yes,  sir." 

Mr.  Sanderson.  Well  then,  what  two 
things  ought  you  to  show  in  your  be- 
haviour ? 

"  Gentleness  and  respect." 

Mr.  Sanderson.  What  do  you  mean 
when  you  say  at  the  end  :  "  To  all  my 
betters  ?"     Who  are  they  ? 

"  All  above  us." — "  Those  who  are  our 
superiors." 

Mr.  Sanderson.  Is  there  more  than 
one  way  in  which  people  may  be  your 
superiors  ? 

"Yes,  sir;  there  are  several." 

Mr.  Sanderson.  Tell  me  one  of  them. 

"  They  may  be  our  superiors  in  age." 

Mr.  Sanderson.  Right ;  and  with  re- 
gard to  such,  you  should  remember  the 
verse  :  "  Ye  younger,  submit  3^ourselves 
unto  the  elder."  Tell  me,  now,  another 
way. 

"  They  may  be  our  superiors  in   sta- 


OR,  HUMILITY.  79 

Mr.  Sanderson.  Yes  ;  God  has  so  or- 
dered it,  that  there  shall  be  different  de- 
grees in  station,  from  the  chief  magistrate 
down  to  the  cottager.  And  of  these  He 
says:  "Render,  therefore,  to  all  their 
dues  :  tribute,  to  whom  tribute  is  due  ; 
custom,  to  whom  custom ;  fear,  to  whom 
fear ;  honour,  to  whom  honour."  How 
else  may  any  be  our  superiors  ? 

"  By  their  office." 

Mr.  Sanderson".  Yes  ;  by  their  office 
or  relation  to  you  ;  for  these  two  come  to 
much  the  same  thing,  Thus  a  teacher  is 
placed  over  a  pupil,  a  parent  over  a  child, 
a  king  over  his  subjects,  a  minister  over 
his  flock.  Are  people  generally  your 
superiors  in  more  than  one  of  these 
ways  ? 

"  Yes.     Almost  always,  sir." 

Mr.  Sanderson.  Yes.  Whilst  you  are 
children,  you  are  placed  with  those  who 
are  not  only  older  than  yourselves,  but 
are  also  above  you  in  some  other  way, 


80  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

either  by  their  relation  as  your  parents,  or 
b}r  their  office  as  your  instructors.  There- 
fore you  see  you  have  a  double  reason 
for  ordering  yourselves  lowly  and  reve- 
rently towards  them. 

«  Yes,  sir." 

Mr.  Sanderson.  Now  you  told  me  that 
these  words  meant  that  }Tou  should  be 
gentle  and  respectful.  Can  you  give  me 
any  instances  in  which  such  a  manner 
will  show  itself?  Mind,  I  am  speaking 
now  of  humility  in  manner  only ;  of  the 
duty  of  submission  and  obedience  in  our 
actions,  I  have  had  occasion  to  talk  to 
you  before. 

"  In  our  way  of  speaking  ;  that  we 
should  address  our  superiors  as  '  Sir'  or 
1  Ma'am,'  or  give  them  whatever  title  may 
belong  to  them." 

Mr.  Sanderson.  Right ;  can  you  give 
me  another  instance  ? 

"  In  our  silence  when  they  are  speak- 
ing, if  we  are  likely  to  disturb  them." 


OR,  HUMILITY.  81 

Mr.  Sanderson.  Quite  right ;  and 
anything  else  ? 

"  Only  that  if  there  is  anything  we  have 
to  do  for  them,  we  should  do  it  in  a  re- 
spectful way." 

Mr.  Sanderson.  Yes  ;  and  there  are 
other  little  things  which  you  might  men- 
tion, such  as  rising  when  any  old  persons 
enter  the  room  and  speak  to  you,  and  by 
opening  the  door  for  them  when  they 
leave  it. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Mr.  Sanderson.  Well,  children,  those 
of  3^ou  that  are  the  younger  ones,  I  mean, 
I  will  tell  you  a  story  of  those  two  famous 
nations  among  the  Greeks,  the  Athenians 
and  Spartans.  It  was  once  when  they 
were  all  assembled  to  witness  their  na- 
tional games. — and  at  these  times  the  dif- 
ferent Greek  tribes  used  to  sit  in  separate 
places  in  the  theatre,  as  it  was  called, — 
that  an  old  man,  a  stranger,  entered 
among  them.  He  walked  along  the  part 
11 


82  AGXES    AND    ELIZA  J 

where  the  Athenians  were,  but  they  took 
no  notice  of  him.  Now  the  Athenians 
had  many  rules  about  politeness,  and 
prided  themselves  upon  being  a  courteous 
people.  Then  he  came  up  to  the  seats 
of  the  Spartans,  and  they  immediately 
rose,  and  made  room  for  him.  Upon 
which  the  old  man  cried  out  :  "  The 
Athenians  know  what  is  right,  but  the 
Spartans  practise  it." 

"  I  hope,  my  dear  children,"  continued 
Mr.  Sanderson,  "that  you  will  be  like 
both  these  nations  :  that  you  will  know 
what  is  right,  like  the  Athenians,  and  do 
it,  like  the  Spartans.  For  knowledge 
without  practice  will  help  you  little.  And 
consider,  besides,  how  much  higher  mo- 
tives for  a  suitable  behaviour  you  have, 
than  a  heathen  people  could  know." 

So  Saying,  Mr.  Sanderson  rose  to  go, 
and  the  little  girls  all  curtseyed  to  him  as 
he  took  his  leave. 

It  now  began  to  draw  towards  the  holi- 


OR,  HUMILITY.  83 

days  ;  and  Agnes  and  Eliza,  in  common 
with  their  schoolfellows,  were  looking  for- 
ward to  them  with  great  pleasure.  First, 
however,  came  the  examination ;  and 
Agnes  was  anxious  about  this,  for  she 
very  much  wished  to  be  moved  into  a 
higher  class,  that  thus  she  might  show  her 
grandmama  and  aunt  that  she  had  taken 
pains  to  improve  during  the  half-year. 
She  needed  not,  however,  have  been  so 
anxious ;  for  her  diligence  and  perseve- 
rance at  Mrs.  Wakefield's  had  been  so 
constant,  that  it  now  required  no  great 
effort  on  her  part  to  pass  such  an  exami- 
nation as  would  enable  her  to  accomplish 
her  purpose. 

Eliza,  too,  had  determined,  a  few  weeks 
before,  to  prepare  herself  for  this  trial ; 
and  she  pleased  herself  with  imagining 
how  much  she  should  surprise  her  com- 
panions and  Miss  Charlotte  Wakefield  by 
her  sudden  success  ;  and  what  a  clever 
child  they  would  think  her,  to  be  able  to 


84  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

do  so  much  in  so  short  a  time.  Foolish 
little  girl !  she  did  not  consider  how 
wrong  she  had  been  in  wasting  her  time 
hitherto,  and  giving  so  much  trouble  as 
she  had  done  by  her  carelessness  and  in- 
attention ;  and  she  forgot,  that,  whilst  all 
she  had  intended  was  to  take  no  especial 
pains  to  improve,  she  had  really  been  go- 
ing back,  or  at  least  suffering  others  to 
get  before  her ;  and  so,  now  that  she 
really  wished  to  apply  herself  to  her  stud- 
ies in  earnest,  she  was  so  unused  to  do 
so,  that  she  found  everything  difficult  and 
perplexing  ;  still  she  tried,  and  tried  hard 
to  accomplish  what  wras  given  her  to  do, 
until  she  saw  that  every  one  in  the  class 
could  succeed  better  than  herself;  and 
then,  after  her  usual  custom,  she  aban- 
doned all  further  efforts. 

It  w^as  not  Mrs.  Wakefield's  habit  to 
give  prizes  to  the  lesser  children,  perhaps 
because  she  thought  they  would  probably 
remain  long  enough   with  her  to   obtain 


OR,  HUMILITY.  85 

one  in  another  class,  and  she  wished  them 
to  be  moved  from  the  lowest  as  soon  as 
possible.  But  Agnes  was  not  by  this 
prevented  from  longing  for  the  day  when 
the  issue  of  the  examination  might  be 
known. 

And  a  happy  morning  it  was  to  many 
of  the  little  girls.  It  was  the  week  before 
Christmas,  a  cold,  bright  day.  After 
breakfast  the  children  were  called  from 
the  school-room  into  the  parlour  ;  there, 
upon  the  table,  the  different  prizes  were 
very  prettily  set  out ;  some  were  nicely- 
bound  books,  some  little  work-boxes,  or 
writing-cases  ;  for  Mrs.  Wakefield  did  not 
confine  her  rewards  to  one  or  two  chil- 
dren in  the  class,  but  allowed  all  to  re- 
ceive them  who  had  reached  a  certain 
point  of  progress  in  their  studies,  or  whose 
behaviour  had  been  such  as  to  merit  a 
prize  for  good  conduct. 

The  little  ones  were  first  called  by  her, 
— not,  as  we  have  said,  for  the  purpose  of 


86  AGNES    AND    ELIZA; 

receiving  any  of  these  ;  but  Mrs.  Wake- 
field, who  was  on  this  day  the  only  acting 
person,  summoned  them  each  to  be  com- 
mended or  blamed,  according  as  they 
had  passed  their  examination,  and  she 
made  at  the  same  time  certain  observa- 
tions upon  their  conduct  throughout  the 
half-year.  Then  those  who  were  to  be 
moved  into  the  upper  class  were  allowed 
to  go  and  stand  among  the  elder  girls,  of 
whom  it  consisted.  Agnes  was  one  of 
those  to  whom  this  permission  was  given, 
and  great  was  her  delight  in  consequence. 
As  each  was  called  up  to  take  her  prize, 
Mrs.  Wakefield  now  and  then  cast  a  look 
at  the  little  girl,  and  two  or  three  of  her 
companions  in  the  same  situation,  and 
expressed  her  hope  that  at  the  end  of  the 
next  examination  she  might  have  the 
pleasure  of  bestowing  a  reward  upon 
them  also  ;  a  wish  in  which  Agnes  could 
heartily  join. 

There  now  remained  only  the  three  or 


OR,  HUMILITY.  87 

four  great  girls,  who  formed  a  class  by 
themselves.  It  was  their  concluding  half- 
year  at  school,  and  not  without  something 
of  a  sorrowful  feeling  were  these  their 
last  prizes  given  and  received.  Perhaps, 
on  their  part,  this  was  because  they  were 
considering  how  many  more  they  might 
have  gained  had  they  but  improved  their 
whole  time  with  Mrs.  Wakefield  as  they 
should  have  done  ;  but,  be  that  as  it  may, 
a  kind  of  gloom  seemed  to  succeed  the 
former  gaiety  of  their  companions  at  the 
thought  of  their  finally  quitting  Stoke. 

It  was  usual  with  Mr.  Sanderson,  in 
the  afternoon  of  this  day,  to  call  at  Mrs. 
Wakefield's,  and  speak  to  her  pupils  ; 
thus,  encouraging  or  reproving  as  he  saw 
occasion,  he  would  take  leave  of  them  for 
the  holidays  ;  not,  however,  without  some 
words  of  advice  as  to  the  manner  in 
which  the  vacation  should  be  spent. 

In  the  summer  the  evening  of  the  prize- 
day  was  generally  passed  at  the  rectory  ; 


88  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

and,  as  Agnes  heard  the  description  of 
the  happy  games  and  merry  talking  in  the 
garden  and  parlour,  she  quite  longed  for 
the  time  when  she  might  share  in  all  their 
pleasures. 

Her  thoughts  were,  however,  soon  re- 
called, by  the  bustle  of  packing  around 
her,  to  the  more  immediate  and,  perhaps, 
greater  delight  of  seeing  her  grandmama ; 
for  it  had  been  settled  that  the  first  part 
of  Agnes's  and  Eliza's  holidays  should  be 
passed  with  Mrs.  Shaen, — a  plan  which 
was  very  welcome  to  the  two  little  girls. 

Yet  it  was  by  no  means  unmixed  pleas- 
ure which  Eliza  felt  in  the  prospect  of  her 
return  to  Westcote.  She  was  thoroughly 
mortified  by  the  issue  of  her  examination  ; 
vexed  that  younger  children  should  have 
done  so  much  better  than  she  could  do  ; 
vexed  again  at  the  idea  of  remaining  an- 
other half-year  exactly  where  she  had  at 
first  been  placed  ;  and  also  at  the  thought 
of  the  difference  in  the  accounts  which 


OR,  HUMILITY.  89 

Agnes  and  herself  would  have  to  give 
their  grandmama  of  their  proceedings  at 
school.  What  effect  Eliza's  feelings  had 
upon  her  conduct  I  will  relate  by  and  by  ; 
at  present  let  us  leave  the  little  girl  to 
her  sad  reflections. 

There  was  yet  one  Sunday  more  before 
the  holidays.  It  was  a  beautiful  day ; 
and  seemed  to  Agnes  and  some  of  her 
school-fellows  a  delightful  calm  after  the 
excitement  of  the  preceding  week. 

Before  church  in  the  morning  Mrs. 
Wakefield  had  sent  a  few  of  the  children 
to  walk  in  the  garden  ;  and  Agnes,  who 
was  among  the  number,  soon  found  her 
little  friend  Lucy  Seymour  beside  her. 

Lucy.  Oh,  Agnes !  are  you  not  glad 
that  our  last  Sunday  is  so  fine  a  one?  It 
is  just  as  though  everything  would  smile 
upon  us  before  our  going  home. 

Agnes.  Yes,  Lucy,  I  am  very  glad ; 
this  day  makes  one  feel  quiet  again,  after 
the  bustle  of  the  examination. 


90  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  J 

Lucy.  I  cannot  feel  quiet  though;  I 
am  constantly  thinking  about  returning 
home,  and  especially  that  I  shall  be  able 
now  to  tell  mama  that  I  have  got  into 
another  class.  Dear,  how  delightful  that 
will  be  !  I  have  been  wishing  for  this  so 
very  much  ;  but  I  shall  not  tell  her  di- 
rectly, not  till  she  asks  me.  Oh !  now  I 
know  what  I  shall  do.  When  my  sister 
Isabella  sees  me,  and  says  :  "  Well,  Lucy, 
what  have  you  done  this  examination, 
and  where  are  you  ?"  then  I  shall  not  say 
anything  ;  and  I  know  that  she  will  an- 
swer :  "  Ah  !  I  thought  how  it  would  be  ; 
I  never  believed  that  you  would  be  moved 
this  half-year,  though  you  promised  us 
so  ;"  and  she  will  go  on  talking,  till  mama 
says  to  me  :  "  Well,  Lucy,  my  love,  let 
me  look  at  you  a  little,  and  see  how  you 
are,  and  how  much  you  have  grown  ;  and 
we  will  hear  of  the  examination  present- 
ly." Then  I  shall  tell  her  all  about  it,  you 
see — don't  you  think  that  I  shall  like  it? 


OR,  HUMILITY.  91 

Agnes.  Yes,  Lucy,  it  will  be  very  de- 
lightful to  you  to  give  them  all  so  much 
pleasure. 

Lucy.  But  that  was  not  quite  what  I 
meant,  Agnes.  They  will  think  it  such  a 
great  thing  for  me  to  have  done  as  I  have  ; 
I  know  Isabella  will,  although,  perhaps, 
she  may  not  say  so. 

Agnes.  Well,  dear  Lucy,  I  am  very 
glad  for  you  ;  and  I  like,  too,  to  think  that 
we  shall  be  together  next  half-year. 

Lucy.  And  you  must  be  glad  for  your- 
self, too,  for  what  you  have  done  ;  only 
you  are  older  than  I  am,  so  it  is  not  such 
a  great  thing  for  you. 

Agnes.  Perhaps  not  Lucy  ;  but  yet  I 
do  think  of  it  a  great  deal,  only  not  quite 
in  that  way.  I  should  be  afraid  to  think 
of  it  as  you  do,  Lucy. 

Lucy,  Afraid,  Agnes?  What  do  you 
mean  ? 

Agnes.  I  should  be  afraid  it  would 
make  me  proud,  Lucy,  to  consider  that  I 


92  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

had  done  something  very  good  ;  so  what 
I  chiefly  look  forward  to,  is  the  pleasure 
it  will  give  my  grandmama  to  hear  about 
the  examination. 

Here  they  were  joined  by  little  Jane 
Stevenson,  who  asked  and  obtained  Ag- 
nes's  consent  to  walk  with  them.  Jane 
was  about  Lucy's  age,  but  not  so  bright 
a  child  ,  she  bad  done  pretty  well  at  the 
examination,  but  was  not  thought  suffi- 
ciently advanced  to  change  her  place. 

"  Do  you  believe,  Agnes,"  continued 
Lucv,  "  that  it  is  wron^  for  me  to  feel  as 
I  do.     I  am  afraid  I  cannot  help  it." 

"But,  Agnes,"  said  Jane,  who  had 
heard  a  part  of  the  former  conversation, 
"  can  we  help  being  proud  when  we  have 
done  well "?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  Jane,  whether  we  can 
help  it  altogether,"  replied  Agnes  ;  and 
here  she  paused. 

"  Well,  Agnes,"  cried  Lucy,  "  why  do 
you  stop  ?" 


OR,  HUMILITY.  93 

"  I  was  thinking,"  answered  Agnes, 
"  what  grandmama  would  say  to  me,  if 
she  were  here.  I  fancy  she  would  tell 
us,  as  she  has  often  told  me  before,  when- 
ever we  are  tempted  to  be  proud,  to  re- 
member Him  who  came  to  visit  us  in 
great  humility,  and  has  left  '  us  an  exam- 
ple that  we  should  follow  his  steps  ;'  I 
have  heard  my  grandmama  speak  thus, 
till  I  have  sometimes  imagined  it  impos- 
sible for  me  to  be  proud  again  ;  and  then, 
too,  I  have  thought,  what  a  happy  thing 
it  is  that  we,  who  are  so  ready  to  think 
highly  of  ourselves,  should  have  such  a 
perfect  pattern  of  humility  before  us." 

"  Well,  I  will  try  your  way,  Agnes, 
"when  I  go  home,"  said  Lucy. 

"  Oh  !  do  not  wait  till  then,  Lucy," 
answered  Agnes.  "  Try  it,  dear,  every 
day,  so  soon  as  one  proud  thought  comes 
into  your  mind." 

"  And  I  will  try,  too,"  said  little  Jane  ; 
"  and  thank  you,  Agnes,  for  telling  me." 


94  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 


CHAPTER    V. 

I  will  pass  over  the  happy  holidays  that 
Agnes  spent  with  her  grandmama.  You, 
my  young  readers,  can  well  imagine  them 
for  yourselves.  Among  the  little  girl's 
greatest  pleasures  was  that  of  seeing  that 
Mrs.  Shaen  had  much  recovered  her  for- 
mer health,  so  that  Eliza  and  herself  could 
be  with  her,  as  they  had  once  been,  with- 
out the  fear  of  tiring  her.  The  last  part 
of  the  vacation  the  children  passed,  with 
Mrs.  Denham,  who  was  very  kind  in  do- 
ing all  in  her  power  to  amuse  them. 

And  now  I  will  fulfil  my  promise  of 
letting  you  hear  a  little  more  about  Eliza. 
She  returned  to  Westcote,  as  you  were  pre- 
pared to  believe,  with  far  less  joyous  feel- 


OR,  HUMILITY.  95 

ings  than  her  sister  ;  but,  when  there,  she 
soon  lost  the  remembrance  of  her  former 
disappointments  ;  and  unhappily,  as  she 
forgot  the  consequences  of  her  faults,  she 
forgot  the  faults  themselves.  The  free- 
dom she  enjoyed  at  Mrs.  Shaen's,  and 
even  with  her  aunt,  was  to  her  so  delight- 
ful after  school,  that  she  seemed  once 
more  fall  of  life  and  spirits.  There  was 
nothing  in  particular  to  call  forth  her  be- 
setting sin  of  pride  ;  for  Agnes  was  not 
very  ready  to  speak  of  the  progress  she 
had  made  beyond  her  sister  ;  and  Miss 
Charlotte  Wakefield,  still  looking  upon 
Eliza  as  a  dull,  rather  than  a  wilfully  idle 
child,  had  made  no  heavy  complaints  of 
her  in  the  letter  which  she  wrote  to  her 
grandmama  in  the  beginning  of  the  holi- 
days. So  the  little  girl  fancied  herself 
happy,  that  no  more  notice  was  taken  of 
all  her  indolence  and  inattention  at  school. 
Poor  child  !  it  would  have  been  far  better 
for  her  to  learn  humility,  though  by  suffer- 


96  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

ing,  than  to  go  on  imagining  she  could 
have  peace,  whilst  she  cherished  her 
pride.  But  we  shall  often  find  it  thus  : — 
that  those  who  have  been  warned,  (and 
Eliza  had  been  several  times,)  and  de- 
spised those  warnings ;  who  have  had 
good  examples  set  before  them,  and  re- 
fused to  follow  them  ;  who  have  felt  con- 
victions, and  stifled  them,  are  left,  sooner 
or  later,  to  themselves ;  and  this  is  the 
worst  thing  that  can  befal  them. 

Eliza,  however,  was  not  thus  left  at 
present.  When  she  returned  wTith  her 
sister  the  next  half-year  to  school,  she  re- 
solved to  make  a  grand  effort  to  be  placed, 
as  soon  as  the  opportunity  should  arrive, 
among  the  elder  girls  ;  although  she  knew 
this  could  not  now  be  till  Midsummer. 
She  therefore  began  to  apply  herself  with 
greatly  increased  diligence  to  her  lessons  ; 
and  so  far  it  was  well.  But,  meanwhile, 
a  readier  obedience  to  Miss  Charlotte 
Wakefield   formed  no  part  of  her  plan  ; 


OR,  HUMILITY.  97 

pride  was  her  only  motive  for  exertion 
now,  as  once  it  had  been  the  cause  of  her 
indolence  ;  and,  indeed,  she  rather  fancied 
that  the  desire  to  improve  in  her  studies 
gave  her  a  right  to  follow  them  in  her 
own  way.  She  was,  therefore,  inclined 
to  look  upon  the  directions  of  her  govern- 
ess, when  they  crossed  her  own  will,  as  a 
needless  interference ;  and  the  conse- 
quence was,  a  constant  struggle  between 
that  lady  and  herself,  something  like  what 
had  taken  place  about  a  year  before,  be- 
tween Mrs.  Denham  and  this  her  trouble- 
some niece  ;  only  now  that  Eliza  was 
older,  her  pride  was  more  deeply-rooted, 
and  her  passions  stronger  than  formerly. 
But  as  in  this  story  I  wish  to  speak  of  the 
grace  and  the  blessings  of  humility,  rather 
than  of  the  sin  and  danger  of  pride,  I  will 
not  dwell  on  Eliza's  conduct  at  this  time, 
nor  its  sad  consequences.  Agnes  often 
grieved  over  her  sister  ;  but,  as  they  were 
in  separate  classes,  she  was  not  able  to 


98  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

be  much  with  her,  and,  indeed,  Eliza 
seemed  to  shun  her  presence,  which 
greatly  grieved  her.  She  would  often, 
however,  when  alone,  pray  for  her  ;  and 
she  was  the  more  encouraged  to  do  this, 
for  she  knew  that  He,  who  had  put  into 
her  own  heart  the  desire  for  humility, 
which  of  herself  she  never  would  have 
known,  could  take  away  Eliza's  pride, 
and  make  her  humble,  too.  Two  or  three 
times,  however,  in  the  course  of  the  half- 
year,  the  sisters  talked  together  very 
gravely.  On  one  occasion,  in  particular, 
Eliza  was  found  by  Agnes  crying  bitterly, 
in  consequence  of  some  task  which  had 
been  imposed  upon  her  as  a  punishment, 
when  the  following  conversation  took 
place  between  them  : 

Agnes.  Oh  !  Eliza,  what  is  the  matter 
with  you  ;  are  you  ill  ? 

Eliza.  No,  Agnes,  T  am  not  ill ;  but  I 
wish  that  I  were,  and  then  I  should  not 
stay  here,  and  be  persecuted  in  this  way. 


v 


Mffi 


Eliza  was  found  by  Agnes,  crying  bitterly." 


OR,  HUMILITY.  99 

Agnes.  In  what  way,  dear  ? 

Eliza.  Oh !  Agnes,  you  know  as  well 
as  I  do,  and  therefore  why  do  you  ask 
me  ?  It's  all  very  well  for  you  to  be 
happy  here,  but  you  must  not  expect  me 
to  be  so. 

Agnes.  I  am  afraid  you  would  not  be 
happy  anywhere  just  now,  Eliza ;  not 
even  at  Westcote. 

Eliza.  And  pray  why  should  I  not  be, 
Agnes  ?     What  is  it  you  mean  ? 

Agnes.  I  wish,  dear  Eliza,  that,  instead 
of  supposing  yourself  with  grandmama, 
you  would  imagine  her  here,  and  think 
what  she  would  say  to  you. 

Eliza.  And  what  would  that  be,  Ag- 
nes, pray,  since  you  can  fancy  things  so 
readily  ? 

Agnes.  Oh  !  Eliza,  I  cannot  say  it  half 
so  well  as  she  would  ;  but  only  recollect 
her  favourite  texts,  and  consider  Who  it 
is  that  speaks  in  them. 

Eliza.  Agnes,  I  can't  recollect ;  I  don't 


100  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  J 

wish  to  think  of  anything  but  Miss  Wake- 
field ;  and  as  to  doing  what  she  tells  me, 
I  never  will ! 

Agnes.  Oh  !  Eliza,  I  cannot  stay  to 
hear  you  talk  in  this  way.  Do,  do  put 
those  thoughts  from  you ;  only  try  and  do 
it,  dear,  and  learn  your  lessons  ;  do  any- 
thing but  feel  and  speak  so. 

But  Eliza  would  not  be  silent ;  and 
Agnes,  seeing  that  it  only  increased  her 
sister's  answer  to  have  some  one  to  whom 
she  could  express  it,  rose  and  left  her. 

Yet  she  did  not  cease  to  think  of  her, 
wondering  within  herself  at  the  change 
that  had  come  upon  Eliza.  She  well  re- 
membered their  childish  games  together 
in  former  years  at  Westcote  ;  she  recol- 
lected how  often  a  hard  task  had  seemed 
easier  when  its  difficulty  was  shared  by 
her  sister,  and  a  fresh  lesson  more  delight- 
ful because  it  was  new  to  them  both. 
"  Eliza  was  naughty  then,  sometimes,  I 
know,"  said  Agnes  to  herself,  "but  she 


OR,  HUMILITY.  101 

would  soon  be  good  again ;  and  even  at 
Aunt  Denham's  she  used  to  come  to  me 
whenever  she  was  unhappy,  and  ask  me 
to  beg  aunt  to  forgive  her.  And  last  half- 
year,  though  certainly  she  gave  Miss 
Wakefield  much  trouble,  and  some  of  the 
little  girls  disliked  her,  she  would  often 
be  my  own  dear  Eliza  still ;  but  now,  I 
cannot  tell  what  she  is  like." 

In  this  way  the  child  continued  her  re- 
flections, till  the  school-bell  summoned 
her  to  her  lessons. 

Had  it  not  been  for  her  sister,  this 
would  have  proved  a  very  happy  half- 
year  to  Agnes.  She  was  making  progress 
in  her  pursuits  ;  and,  as  a  reward  for  her 
past  diligence,  Mrs.  Shaen  allowed  her 
now  to  learn  of  one  or  two  of  the  masters 
who  attended  at  the  school.  Miss  Wake- 
field, too,  was  much  kinder  in  her  man- 
ner, and  more  disposed  to  notice  her,  than 
Miss  Charlotte  had  been  ;  and,  finding  her 
always  ready  to  listen,  she  would  often 


102  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  J 

talk  to  her  on  those  subjects  of  which  the 
little  girl  best  loved  to  hear,  till  Agnes 
was  surprised  to  find  that  any  one  besides 
her  grandmama  could  speak  to  her  when 
alone  so  pleasantly.  Then,  also,  Emily 
had  grown  quite  affectionate  in  her  behav- 
iour to  her,  and  Agnes  in  return  was  dis- 
posed to  do  more  than  like  Emily  ;  so  that 
they  began  to  be  looked  upon  throughout 
the  school  as  two  principal  friends  ;  for 
Lucy  Seymour  happened  to  be  away 
during  the  greater  part  of  this  half-year ; 
and  from  little  Jane  Stevenson  Agnes  was 
necessarily  a  good  deal  separated,  though 
the  child  would  continually  find  some- 
thing or  other  to  do  for  her,  or  ask  as  a 
favour  to  be  allowed  to  walk  with  her, 
and  Agnes  was  by  no  means  backward  in 
granting  the  request,  for  she  sincerely 
loved  her  little  friend. 

Midsummer  was  now  approaching,  and 
the  idea  of  a  prize,  and  of  the  evening  at 
the  Rectory,  were  frequently  in  the  mind 


OR,  HUMILITY.  103 

of  Agnes.  Her  hopes,  however,  in  com- 
mon with  the  bright  prospects  of  many  of 
her  schoolfellows,  were  this  time  to  be 
disappointed.  In  the  beginning  of  June, 
scarlet  fever  broke  out  at  Mrs.  Wake- 
field's, and  her  pupils  were  in  consequence 
hastily  dismissed  to  their  homes.  Much 
as  Eliza  had  before  been  wishing  to  re- 
turn, she  was  now  thoroughly  mortified ; 
for  throughout  the  half-year  she  had  stead- 
ily kept  in  view  the  resolution  with  which 
she  began  it ;  and,  notwithstanding  all  her 
faults,  as  indolence  was  not  now  one  of 
them,  it  seemed  likely  she  would  attain 
her  object,  and  be  moved  into  the  upper 
class.  Now,  the  fear  lest  her  being  oblig- 
ed to  leave  school  without  any  examina- 
tion should  prevent  this,  wholly  occupied 
her  thoughts.  In  vain  did  Agnes  assure 
her  that  Miss  Wakefield  would  not  allow 
it  to  do  so  ;  and  once,  indeed,  the  more  to 
comfort  her,  she  ventured  to  say  that  per- 
haps it  was  better  for  Eliza  not  to  undergo 


104  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

an  examination,  as  thus  she  avoided  the 
remarks  which  might  have  been  made 
upon  her  conduct.  But  this,  though  done 
in  a  very  gentle  way,  made  Eliza  so  an- 
gry, that  Agnes  was  afterwards  silent. 

"  Oh,  Agnes  !  dear  Agnes  !"  said  little 
Jane  to  her  on  the  morning  the}?-  were  to 
leave;  "lam  so  sorry  for  you,  for  you 
have  been  wishing  so  much  for  a  prize,  I 
know ;  and  now,  though  it  is  not  your 
fault,  you  cannot  have  one."     ', 

"  It  is  not  my  fault,  Jane,1"  answered 
Agnes,  "and  therefore  I  tike  less  mind; 
that  is,  I  try  not  to  mind  it." 

"  Oh  !  but,"  continued  Jane,  "just  con- 
sider how  pleasant  it  would  have  been  for 
you,  the  first  Midsummer  after  your  com- 
ing to  school,  to  have  had  a  prize  to  take 
home.  Now  you  must  w^ait  till  Christ- 
mas." 

"  I  have  thought  of  all  this  before, 
Jane,"  replied  Agnes  ;  "  and  at  first  I 
was  very  sorry  about  it.     But  I  have  got 


OR,  HUMILITY.  105 

over  those  feelings  now ;  only  do  not 
bring  them  to  my  mind  again,  for  I  am 
sure  they  would  easily  return." 

"  Well,  then,  Agnes,  I  won't  try,"  said 
Jane  ;  "  but  let  me  ask  you  a  question 
instead.  Tell  me  how  you  got  over 
them  ?" 

"  You  know,  Jane,"  answered  her 
friend,  "  that,  whenever  I  want  to  find 
out  what  is  right  for  me  to  do  or  to  feel,  I 
fancy  what  grandmama  would  say  to  me. 
And  I  can  the  better  do  so  now,  because 
I  heard  from  her  the  other  day  on  this 
very  subject  of  the  prizes,  before  she 
thought  that  I  should  be  obliged  to  return 
home  so  suddenly  ;  and  she  bids  me  re- 
member the  text :  l  Before  honour  is  hu- 
mility.' But  stay,  I  will  read  you  exactly 
her  sentence,  for  I  always  carry  about 
her  last  letter  with  me.  '  Humility  must 
go  before  honour,  Agnes,  but  it  must  not 
be  parted  with  when  honour  comes  ;  that 
were  a  sad  exchange  for  my  child  ;  and 
14 


106  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

so,  if  you  cannot  have  both,  I  would 
rather  wish  for  you  humility  without  hon- 
our, than  honour  without  humility.'  Now 
I  think,  Jane,"  continued  Agnes,  "  that,  if 
I  had  obtained  my  prize,  it  might  have 
made  me  proud  ;  and  then  I  should  have 
had  just  what  granclmama  did  not  wish 
for  me,  honour  without  humility." 

It  was  a  happy  thing  for  Agnes  that 
humility  had  been  one  of  Mrs.  Shaen's 
favourite  subjects  of  conversation,  so  that 
the  little  girl  could  scarcely  think  of  her 
grandmama  without  having  some  precept 
about,  or  example  of,  this  grace,  brought 
to  her  mind.  It  might  have  been  the 
same  with  Eliza.  It  did  often  happen, 
that  when  she  was  about  to  give  way  to 
some  proud  temper,  verses  which  she  had 
learnt  or  heard  at  Westcote  would  come 
to  her  recollection  ;  but  she  had  from  the 
very  first  tried  to  forget  them  ;  and  the 
poor  child  had  so  well  succeeded,  that 
they  had  only  once  been  in  her  remem- 


PR,  HUMILITY.  107 

brance  during  the  ]ast  half  year,  in  a  vio- 
lent fit  of  passion  ;  then  she  immediately 
put  those  thoughts  from  her,  that  she 
might  indulge  her  temper  without  re- 
straint, and  never,  since  that  time,  had 
they  visited  her  again. 

A  few  days  after  Agnes  and  Eliza  left 
Stoke,  they  were  both  taken  ill  at  Mrs. 
Denham's,  (for  they  had  gone  immediately 
to  her)  with  scarlet  fever.  It  broke  out 
with  Agnes,  as  it  had  done  with  her  little 
school-fellows,  in  a  very  mild  form  ;  but 
Eliza  soon  became  dangerously  ill ;  and 
her  sister,  having  recovered  sufficiently  for 
this  purpose,  was  therefore  sent  over  to 
Westcote.  It  was  a  strange  thing  to  the 
little  girl  to, feel  sorrow  in  the  prospect  of 
going  to  her  grandmama's  ;  yet  now  she 
would  far  rather,  if  she  might,  have  staid 
by  and  watched  Eliza  ;  or  if  this  had  not 
been  permitted  her,  still  she  thought,  that 
by  remaining  in  the  house  she  should  at 
least  have  had  the  solace  of  hearing  con- 


108  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  J 

tinually  how  her  sister  was.  However, 
Mrs.  Denham  considered,  and  perhaps 
rightly,  that  it  would  be  better  for  Agnes 
to  be  entirely  separated  from  her ;  she 
allowed  her  to  take  one  last  look  at  Eliza, 
who  was  scarcely  conscious  of  her  pres- 
ence ;  and  then,  kissing  the  little  girl,  al- 
most lifted  her  into  the  chaise.  On  her 
arrival  at  Westcote,  Mrs.  Shaen  did  what 
she  could  to  comfort  her  ;  but,  as  her  sis- 
ter grew  worse,  she  determined  herself  to 
go  over  to  Barrow  to  be  with  her,  and  so 
Agnes  was  left  under  the  care  of  Aylton. 
I  will  not  describe  the  child's  bitter  sor- 
row, as  from  time  to  time  the  thought 
forced  itself  into  her  mind,  that  she  should 
never  see  Eliza  again  ;  nor  the  kind  of 
trembling  delight,  which  Aylton  would 
now  and  then  awaken  in  her,  at  the  words 
that  her  sister  might  yet  recover.  And, 
if  so,  Agnes  went  on  to  hope  she  might 
be  a  very  different  and  a  better  child. 
But  these  days  of  anxiety,  long  though 


OR,  HUMILITY.  109 

they  seemed  to  poor  Agnes,  were  not 
many.  In  about  a  week's  time  a  letter 
from  her  grandmama  put  an  end  to  her 
uncertainty  ;  and,  whilst  it  told  her  that 
she  could  never  see  her  sister  more  upon 
earth,  it  spoke  so  reverently  of  Him, 
"  whose  never- failing  Providence  ordereth 
all  things  in  heaven  and  earth  ;"  pointed 
with  such  love  to  Him  who  once  shared  a 
sister's  grief;  so  trustfully  to  Him  who  is 
the  Comforter, — that  it  much  helped  the 
little  girl  to  put  down  any  murmuring 
thoughts  against  her  Heavenly  Father. 
Her  sorrow  was  not  less  deep,  but  it  be- 
came a  softer,  holier  feeling.  She  was 
enabled  to  obey  the  command,  of  which 
Mrs.  Shaen  reminded  her,  to  humble  her- 
self under  the  mighty  hand  of  God  ;  and 
though  she  was  but  a  child,  she  found,  as 
really  as  older  people,  the  sweet  calm 
that  follows  the  really  looking  upon  every 
event,  as  ordered  by  Him  who  doeth  all 
things  well, — the  humbly  taking  up  of  the 


110  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

cross  laid  upon  us  by  Him  who  bore  His 
own  so  meekly  for  us, — the  yielding  up  of 
the  whole  will  to  Him  who  deigns  to  dwell 
in  the  lowly  heart. 

Quietly,  therefore,  could  Agnes  now 
wait  her  grandmama's  return,  which  was 
delayed  for  ten  days  ;  so  quietly,  indeed, 
that  Aylton  was  astonished  to  hear  no 
expression  of  discontent  or  impatience 
uttered  by  the  little  girl  in  all  her  sorrow ; 
and  she  once  ventured  to  say  so. 

"  Oh,  Aylton  !"  was  the  reply,  "  if  you 
had  read  my  letter,  and  been  taught  as  I 
have,  you  would  not  wonder  then." 


W 


OR,  HUMILITY.  Ill 


CHAPTER    VI. 

Having  now  followed  Agnes  during 
the  earlier  part  of  her  childhood,  I  do  not 
intend  to  give  you,  my  readers,  so  exact 
an  account  of  her  future  history.  I  have 
already  told  you  about  her  sufficiently  to 
enable  you  to  judge  what  kind  of  little 
girl  she  was,  and  how  she  became  and 
continued  so  ;  and  you  may  all  think  for 
yourselves  how  far  you  are  like  her, — like 
her  in  this  especially,  that,  wherever  you 
are,  you  are  showing  the  same  humble, 
and  therefore  contented  spirit. 

From  what  you  have  already  heard  of 
Agnes,  you  will  easily  believe,  that  each 
year  as  it  passed,  still  found  and  left  her 
improving  ;  for,  wishing  and  seeking  to  be 


112  AGNES    AND    ELIZA; 

guided,  she  was  guided  in  the  way  that 
she  loved  ;  and,  the  further  she  advanced 
in  it,  the  lowlier  she  became, — the  more 
ready  to  make  allowances  for  others, 
though  unwilling  to  excuse  herself. 

She  continued  some  years  at  Mrs. 
Wakefield's,. for  hergrandmama  and  aunt 
both  thought  that  she  enjoyed  more  ad- 
vantages there  than  could  elsewhere  be 
given  her.  Agnes,  feeling  their  kindness 
in  allowing  them  to  her,  endeavoured  to 
improve  them  to  the  utmost ;  so  that,  after 
the  first  Midsummer,  there  was  no  half- 
year  in  which  she  did  not  return  home 
without  one  prize  at  the  least  as  the  token 
of  her  good  conduct,  or  improvement  in 
her  studies.  She  was  a  general  favourite 
throughout  the  school ;  still,  Emily  Gar- 
diner, and  Lucy  Seymour,  and  Jane  Ste- 
venson (now  no  longer  little  Jane,)  were 
her  chief  friends.  Yet,  much  as  she  loved 
them,  she  ever  felt  a  kind  of  loneliness 
since  Eliza's  death.     Her  regret  was  per- 


OR,  HUMILITY.  113 

haps  increased,  because  she  had  so  often 
formerly,  when  grieving  over  her  sister's 
conduct,  comforted  herself  with  the  hope 
that,  as  Eliza  grew  older,  she  would  im- 
prove ;  and  now  that  prospect  was  gone 
for  ever.  Besides,  Agnes  was  afraid  that 
she  had  not  always  spoken  and  acted  be- 
fore her  sister,  nor  been  kind  and  forgiving 
towards  her,  as  she  ought.  "  Oh  !  had  I 
been  different,"  she  would  say  to  herself, 
"  she  might  have  been  so,  too." 

But  these  recollections  were  not  useless 
to  Agnes  ;  they  made  her  more  watchful 
now,  especially  when  she  was  with  those 
whom  she  loved,  lest  she  might  hereafter 
have  cause  to  reproach  herself  in  the 
same  way  with  regard  to  them. 

Her  holida}7s  were  now  regularly  spent 
at  Westcote ;  for,  after  she  had  been 
about  two  years  at  school,  some  family 
affairs  had  called  back  Mrs.  Denham  to 
the  north,  where  she  had  resided  the 
greater  part  of  her  life. 
15 


114  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

And  now,  as  I  draw  nearer  to  the  end 
of  my  story,  I  feel  a  fresh  difficulty  ;  for 
I  am  supposing  that  several  years  have 
passed  with  Agnes  since  its  commence- 
ment, and  she  therefore  speaks,  and  must 
be  spoken  of  as  an  older  person  ;  whereas 
with  you,  my  readers,  it  is  probably  but 
a  short  time  since  you  took  up  this  little 
book.  However,  though  you  may  not 
now  understand  everything  in  this  part  of 
my  tale,  you  may  yet  like  to  continue  it ; 
and  perhaps  it  may  some  day  come  to 
your  recollection,  when  you  can  better 
enter  into  its  meaning. 

What  T  have  to  relate  of  Agnes  will  be 
still  chiefly,  as  hitherto,  her  behaviour  in 
small  and  common  things ;  for  they  are 
such  as  are  more  likely  to  happen  to  your- 
selves,— they  must  at  least  occur  more 
frequently  than  greater  events. 

Emily  Gardiner  left  school  the  vacation 
before  Agnes  ;  and  it  was  then  settled, 
with  the  consent  of  the  mama  on  the  one, 


OR,  HUMILITY.  115 

and  the  grandmama  on  the  other  side, 
that,  if  all  should  be  well,  the  next  Mid- 
summer, before  Agues  returned  to  West- 
cote,  where  she  was  thenceforth  to  take 
up  her  abode,  she  should  pay  a  visit  to 
her  friend  at  Woodford,  so  Emily's  home 
was  called.  There  was  much  to  occupy 
Agnes's  mind  during  this  last  half-year, 
as  she  wished  to  make  the  most  of 
the  time  which  yet  remained  to  her  at 
Stoke  ;  but,  as  the  holidays  approached, 
with  many  happy  imaginations,  and  plans 
of  the  life  she  was  to  lead  with  her  grand- 
mama,  was  mingled  the  delightful  pros- 
pect of  seeing  Emily,  and  being  made 
acquainted  with  her  home. 

That  Midsummer  prize-day  dawned 
lovelily  upon  many  bright  faces  at  Mrs. 
Wakefield's ;  and,  if  Agnes's  was  not 
among  the  most  so,  it  was  because  she 
had  spent  too  many  pleasant  years  at 
Stoke,  to  feel  unmingled  joy  at  the  thought 
of  leaving  it.     It  was  an  exciting  day  to 


116  AGNES    AND    ELIZA; 

her,  for  she  received,  together  with  her 
prizes,  the  highest  commendations  from 
Mrs.  Wakefield,  and  not  a  few  congratu- 
lations from  her  schoolfellows ;  so  that 
she  was  glad  of  the  quiet  of  the  evening 
to  collect  her  thoughts.  Sleep,  however, 
presently  came  to  interrupt  her  medita- 
tions ;  but  an  opportunity  was  soon  given 
her  for  a  fuller  indulgence  in  them.  A 
few  mornings  afterwards,  Agnes  set  out 
on  her  way  to  Woodford  ;  each  arrange- 
ment had  been  made,  her  last  leave-ta- 
kings were  over,  and  she  was  alone  ;  she 
had,  therefore,  full  leisure  for  looking 
back  on  the  past,  or  forward  to  the  future. 
She  occupied  herself  with  the  first ;  and 
thence  many  serious  thoughts  rose  to  her 
mind.  Not  the  least  so  was  the  remem- 
brance of  the  time  when,  with  Emily  and 
a  few  others  of  her  companions,  she  had 
taken  upon  herself  the  duties,  and  been 
admitted  to  the  full  privileges,  of  a  mem- 
ber  of  the    Christian    Church ;    scarcely 


OR,  HUMILITY.  117 

more  than  a  twelvemonth  had  elapsed 
since  the  period  of  Agnes's  confirmation ; 
and  the  tower  of  Tlton  church,  where  it 
had  taken  place,  as  it  caught  her  eye  in 
the  distance,  brought  each  circumstance 
vividly  to  her  mind, — the  vow,  and  the 
blessing,  and  the  prayer.  No  wonder, 
then,  that  they  were  very  grave  feelings 
of  which  Agnes  was  conscious  during  the 
first  part  of  her  journey. 

Meanwhile,  the  day  seemed  long  to  Em- 
ily, for  she  must  wait  till  the  evening  for 
the  arrival  of  her  friend.  The  house  and 
garden  at  Woodford,  pleasant  at  all  times 
in  Emily's  eyes,  seemed  doubly  so  then, 
as  she  watched  for  Agnes  by  the  sum- 
mer twilight ;  and,  happily,  the  calmness 
and  beauty  around  her  somewhat  soothed 
her  impatience  for  the  hour  of  their  meet- 
ing. That  came  at  last,  and  the  joy  which 
it  brought  to  both  was  nearly  equal ;  but 
the  greatness  of  its  degree  I  will  leave  to 
the   imagination   of  my  readers. 


118  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

Agnes  had  heard  so  much  of  Mrs.  Gar- 
diner from  her  }roung  daughter,  and  had 
formed  such  an  exact  idea  of  her  in  her 
own  mind,  that  she  felt  not  a  little  anxious 
to  see  her ;  and  she  was  desirous  also  to 
know  how  so  sensible  and  agreeable  a  per- 
son as  Emily  represented  her  mama  to  be, 
could  yet  be  so  different  from  Mrs.  Shaen, 
as  her  friend  assured  her  that  she  was. 
A  few  days  at  Woodford  convinced  her 
that  Emily  was  right ;  that  Mrs.  Gardiner, 
though  she  quite  equalled  the  expectations 
which  Agnes  had  formed  of  her,  was  yet 
an  entirely  different  character  from  her 
own  grandmama.  Mr.  Gardiner  and  her- 
self were  both  extremely  kind  to  Agnes  ; 
they  were  prepared  to  welcome  her  as 
the  friend  of  their  daughter,  but  they  soon 
learned  to  like  her  for  her  own  sake. 
The  visit  was,  therefore,  on  all  accounts, 
a  very  pleasant  one  to  her ;  she  enjoyed 
all  the  freedom  of  a  large  house  in  the 
country,  and  could  pursue  her  occupations 


OR,  HUMILITY.  119 

with  Emily  with  little  interruption  ;  there 
was  a  lovely  garden  where  they  could 
walk  together,  and  Mr.  Gardiner  would 
often  accompany  them  in  long  country 
rambles.  It  was  a  pretty  room,  too, 
which  Emily  had  chosen  for  her  friend  ; 
the  window  looked  upon  the  valley  below 
the  house,  where,  amid  the  cluster  of  cot- 
tages forming  the  village,  stood  the  tiny 
church  ;  and  the  chime  of  its  bells  often 
sounded  sweetly  on  Agnes's  ear.  Still, 
surrounded  by  these  things,  she  loved  to 
think  who  it  was  that  gave  them  to  her  ; 
and,  receiving  them  as  proofs  of  a  good- 
ness which  she  did  not  deserve,  she  tried 
to  use  them  all,  as  He  would  have  her, 
who  had  bestowed  them. 

Agnes  felt  much,  too,  the  kindness  of 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gardiner,  and  was  only 
sorry  that  she  had  it  but  little  in  her 
power  to  prove  that  she  did  so  ;  yet,  per- 
haps, her  manner  showed  it  more  than 
anything  else  could  have  done.     They,  on 


120  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

their  part,  were  very  glad  that  their 
daughter  should  have  chosen  such  a 
friend ;  and,  when  she  spoke  of  going, 
they  were  urgent  with  her  to  prolong  her 
visit. 

When  Agnes  had  been  about  ten  days 
at  Woodford,  one  morning  at  breakfast 
Emily  proposed  taking  her  to  see  Martha 
Panton,  an  old  inhabitant  of  the  parish, 
who  lived  at  some  distance  from  Mr. 
Gardiner's  house. 

"  I  have  been  thinking  of  it  a  long 
time,"  she  said,  "  and  the  walk  will  be  so 
pleasant  this  beautiful  day  ;  shall  we  go, 
Agnes  ?" 

"  You  may  be  sure  I  should  like  it, 
Emily,"  replied  her  friend. 

The  plan  was  mentioned  accordingly  to 
Mrs,  Gardiner,  who  started  some  objec- 
tions. 

"  The  fields  will  be  too  wet  for  you 
from  the  late  rain,"  she  observed  ;  "  and 
by  the  lane  I  do  not  quite  like  your  going. 


OR,  HUMILITY.  121 

It  is   so    much    further,  and    so   lonely." 

"Oh!  mama,"  cried  Emily,  "I  often 
walk  alone  down  that  very  way,  a.nd  I 
have  never  met  with  anything  disagree- 
able, excepting  once  an  old  blind  horse ; 
and  Agnes  is  not  easily  frightened." 

"  Pray,  do  not  object  to  the  walk  on 
my  account,  ma'am,"  said  Agnes ;  "  I 
have  no  doubt  I  should  enjoy  it." 

"  I  quite  believe,"  replied  Mrs.  Gardi- 
ner, "  that  you  would  neither  of  you  be 
the  least  afraid,  and  very  possibly  you 
might  pay  your  visit  and  return  with  the 
utmost  safety  ;  still,  I  do  not  think  it  ex- 
actly the  thing  for  you.  However,  do  as 
you  like ;  I  have  told  you  what  I  think 
about  it." 

So  saying,  Emily's  mama  left  the  room. 

"Dear,"  continued  Emily  to  her  friend, 
"  I  cannot  see  what  harm  there  would  be 
in  the  walk.  That  lane  is  uot  a  pleasant 
one,  I  know,  but  I  have  often  been  there 


122  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ', 

quite  by  myself;  and  you  would  not 
mind  it,  would  yon,  Agnes  ?" 

"  Oh  !  not  for  myself  in  the  least,"  re- 
plied Agnes  ;  "  one  lane  is  much  the  same 
to  me  as  another  in  that  respect ;  I  like 
them  all.  But  I  suppose  your  mama  is  a 
better  judge  about  the  matter,  so  shall  we 
not  give  up  the  walk  for  to-day  ?" 

"  It's  tiresome,  though,"  answered  Emi- 
ly ;  "  for,  if  we  do  not  go  to-day,  I  can- 
not tell  when  we  shall ;  to-morrow,  you 
know,  we  are  engaged." 

"Let  us  put  off  our  visit,  however,  this 
once,"  said  Agnes  ;  "  and  leave  the  future 
to  itself." 

Emily  at  length  agreed  in  this  opinion  ; 
and  presently  afterwards  it  came  into  her 
mind,  that,  as  they  could  not  go  to  Martha 
immediately,  they  might  in  the  meanwhile 
have  time  to  make  her  a  gown,  of  which 
the  poor  woman  stood  greatly  in  need. 
She  therefore  invited  Agnes  to  assist  her 
in  the   choice  of  something  suitable  for 


OR,  HUMILITY.  123 

she  was  in  the  habit  of  supplying  the 
wants  of  certain  families  among  the  vil- 
lagers. This  done,  the  two  friends  both 
set  busily  to  work. 

"  You  are  very  diligently  occupied," 
said  Mrs.  Gardiner,  as  she  entered  the 
parlour  that  evening  ;  "  that  looks  a  nice, 
dark  colour;  is  it  your  selection,  Agnes?" 

"  I  believe  Emily  and  I  both  agreed  on 
the  choice,"  replied  Agnes. 

"  And  it  seems  a  strong  stuff,  too,"  con- 
tinued Mrs.  Gardiner.  "  But,  Agnes,  my 
dear,  surely  that  work  is  hardly  strong 
enough.  It  is  all  very  well  to  look  at,  but 
would  not  prove  durable,  I  am  afraid." 

Agnes  saw  that  Mrs.  Gardiner  was 
right. 

"  Indeed,  I  think  I  have  made  a  mis- 
take," she  replied.  "  Emily,  will  you  let 
me  look  at  your  work  ?" 

"  Emily's  is  not  over  and  above  strong, 
I  see,"  said  her  mama ;  "  but  it  is  better 
than  your's.     I  should  advise  you,  Agnes, 


124  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

to  take  some  coarser  cotton,  and  run  those 
gathers  again." 

"Oh!  mama,"  said  Emily;  "surely 
Agnes  need  not  take  all  that  trouble? 
Martha  is  an  old  woman,  and  does  not 
want  her  gowns  for  doing  hard  work  in." 

"  Thank  you  !  Emily,"  exclaimed  Ag- 
nes ;  "  but  I  do  not  mind  the  trouble,  and 
I  had  rather  take  your  mama's  advice." 

Then,  thanking  Mrs.  Gardiner  for  tell- 
ing her  of  her  mistake,  (for  Agnes  was 
always  glad  to  be  shown  where  she  was 
wrong,)  she  set  to  work  to  rectify  it ;  and, 
though  it  took  her  a  good  while  to  do 
so,  she  did  not  afterwards  repent  of  the 
delay. 

Very  shortly  after  this  incident  occur- 
red, a  friend  of  Mrs.  Gardiner's  came  to 
spend  a  little  time  at  her  house.  The 
name  of  this  lady  was  Mrs.  Rankin  ;  she 
was  the  mother  of  little  Mary,  about 
whom  you  heard  in  the  early  part  of  my 
story.     Her  daughter  had  not  been  pass- 


OR,  HUMILITY.  125 

ing  these  holidays  at  home  ;  for,  as  she 
was  to  return  finally  at  Michaelmas,  it 
had  been  thought  better  for  her  to  remain 
during  this  summer  at  school — the  same 
school,  at  her  first  return  from  which 
she  had  spent  a  few  days  at  Westcote,  as 
you  may  remember.  Mrs.  Rankin  herself, 
although  a  distant  cousin,  had  never  seen 
Agnes ;  and,  indeed,  it  was  chiefly  on 
this  account  that  Mrs.  Gardiner  had  now 
invited  her  friend.  She  was  an  agreeable 
person  ;  with  a  peculiarly  pleasing  man- 
ner. She  soon  took  a  great  fancy  to 
Agnes,  whose  simplicity  and  modesty  had 
quite  a  charm  for  her  ;  and  Agnes,  on  the 
other  hand,  learned  to  admire  the  ease 
and  grace  of  her  cousin's  deportment. 
Indeed,  as  Emily  once  remarked  to  her 
mama,  there  was  something  alike  in  both  ; 
only  what  was  in  Mrs.  Rankin  but  the 
effect  of  education,  and  of  the  society  in 
which  she  had  mixed,  sprung  in  Agnes 
from  character  and  principle, 


126  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  J 

A  morning  or  two  after  her  arrival, 
Agnes  and  Emily  were  employed  in  turn- 
ing over  the  leaves  of  a  book  which  lay 
upon  the  breakfast-ta.ble. 

"  How  very  dull  must  this  volume  be  !" 
exclaimed  the  latter,  to  her  friend. 

"  Particularly  so,  I  should  say,  judging 
from  its  appearance,"  replied  Agnes. 

"  Oh  !  so  you  have  got  my  book  there, 
have  you,  young  ladies  !"  exclaimed  Mr. 
Gardiner,  on  entering  the  room  ;  "  and 
pray  what  do  you  think  of  it  ?  A  most 
interesting  work,  I  assure  you,  it  is." 

"  Indeed,  papa  !"  cried  Emily;  "then 
it  is  well  you  did  not  hear  what  we  were 
saying  just  now,  for  we  both  agreed  that 
it  seemed  extremely  dry." 

"  Have  you,  either  of  you,  read  it, 
then  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Gardiner. 

"  No,  we  have  not,  sir,"  answered 
Agnes. 

"  Then  do  not  speak  without  know- 
ledge.    I   can  only  tell  you  I  have  not 


OR,  HUMILITY.  127 

been  so  much  pleased  with  any  volume  for 
a  long  time  ;  and  I  really  advise  you  both 
to  read  it  before  I  send  it  away,  which  I 
must  do  shortly.  Miss  Graham,  I  thought 
I  heard  you  inquiring  for  some  book  to 
read  yesterday  ;  in  my  opinion,  you  can- 
not do  better  than  take  this  ;  and  I  shall 
be  most  happy  to  lend  it  to  3rou,  for  I 
have  just  finished  it." 

Mr.  Gardiner  then  continued  the  con- 
versation with  Mrs.  Rankin.  Agnes,  mean- 
while, again  took  up  the  work  which  she 
had  heard  him  praising  so  highly,  and 
it  still  appeared  to  her  exceedingly  un- 
interesting ;  but  she  knew  Mr.  Gardiner 
to  be  a  sensible  man,  and  believed  that 
he  was  more  likely  to  form  a  right  esti- 
mate of  its  merits,  after  having  read  it 
through,  than  herself,  who  had  scarcely 
seen  it.  She  resolved,  therefore,  to  fol- 
low his  advice  ;  and  she  soon  had  reason 
to  be  glad  she  had  done  so,  as  the  work 
contained  abundant  information  on  a  sub- 


128  AGNES   AND   ELIZA  J 

ject  about  which  she  had  lately  been  in- 
quiring ;  nor  was  the  present  the  only 
occasion  on  which  Agnes's  willingness  to 
listen  to  the  recommendations  of  others 
proved  of  great  advantage  to  her. 

In  the  course  of  breakfast  that  morning, 
Martha  Panton's  name  being  mentioned, 
Mrs.  Rankin  proposed  to  take  the  two 
young  friends  to  the  cottage  in  her  chaise, 
as  she  said  she  had  a  call  to  make  in 
that  direction.  The  offer  was  gladly  ac- 
cepted. 

"  Well,  Emily,"  observed  Agnes,  as 
they  went  up  stairs  to  dress,  "  you  see 
we  have  gained  two  things  by  taking 
your  mama's  advice  the  other  day  about 
waiting, — Martha's  gown,  and  a  pleasant 
drive." 

"  Yes,  mama  is  generally  right,"  replied 
Emily  ;  "  but  somehow,  Agnes,  I  am  not 
quite  such  an  advocate  for  being  guided 
by  other  people  as  you  are." 

"  You  should  rather  say,"  returned  her 


OR,  HUMILITY.  129 

friend,  "  for  listening  to  it ;  that  I  would 
do  in  most  cases,  at  all  events." 

On  their  return  from  Martha,  Agnes 
was  Mrs.  Rankin's  companion  in  the 
chaise,  and  she  appeared  very  willing  to 
enter  into  conversation  with  her. 

"  You  have  now  been  here  long  enough 
to  form  a  judgment  of  this  part  of  the 
country,"  she  said  ;  "  which  do  you  pre- 
fer, Westcote  or  Woodford  ?" 

"  Most  parts  of  Somersetshire, are  beau- 
tiful, I  think,"  replied  Agnes ;  "  and  I 
shall  remember  this  place  with  peculiar 
delight ;  but  yet  it  hardly  seems  to  me  so 
lovely  as  Westcote  ;  the  lanes  are  not  so 
deep  and  green,  nor  the  hills  so  wooded." 

"  But,"  continued  Mrs.  Rankin,  "have 
you  seen  the  Hanger,  and  the  Deep  Dell, 
and  the  Fairies'  Glen  ?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Agnes,  "  I  have  seen 
them  :  for  Mrs.  Gardiner  has  been  very 
kind  in  taking  me  everywhere  ;  and  I  ad- 
mire them  all  exceedingly." 


130  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

"  And  you  still  prefer  Westcote  !"  said 
Mrs.  Rankin.  "  That  is  the  effect  of 
prejudice.  Your  village  must  indeed  be 
beautiful,  if  it  surpasses  this.  I  think  I 
shall  come  and  pay  a  visit  to  you  there, 
and  explore  for  myself." 

"  I  am  sure,"  replied  Agnes,  "  I  shall 
be  very  happy  to  show  you  our  scenery. 
"Westcote  is  quite  noted  in  that  part  of 
the  country  for  its  loveliness." 

"  You  seem  fond  of  the  country,  Ag- 
nes," observed  Mrs.  Rankin.  "  I  dare 
say  you  recollect  those  lines  of  Cowper's, 
beginning  *  He  is  the  freeman  whom  the 
truth  makes  free.'  There  are  many  beau- 
tiful sentiments  in  Cowper ;  though,  as 
a  poet,  I  much  prefer  Thomson.  You 
know  the  '  Seasons,'  do  you  not  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  read  them  during  my  last  holi- 
days," replied  Agnes  ;  "  but  I  think  I 
know  more  of  Cowper." 

"  And  which  do  you  prefer?"  inquired 
her  cousin. 


OR,  HUMILITY.  131 

"  Indeed,"  said  Agnes,  "  T  cannot  tell 
which  I  ought  to  like  best ;  but  at  present 
Cowper  is  my  favourite,  certainly." 

"  That  is  only  because  you  are  not  suf- 
ciently  acquainted  with  Thomson,"  re- 
marked her  companion  ;  "  what !  you  do 
not  think  so,  Agnes  ?" 

"  Perhaps  it  may  be  as  you  say,"  re- 
plied Agnes ;  "but  yet  there  is  some- 
thing about  Cowper  which,  I  fancy,  would 
always  please  me  more  than  Thomson." 

"  And  what  is  that  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Rankin. 

"  I  can  hardly  tell,"  answered  Agnes  ; 
"  sometimes  I  have  imagined  it  is  that 
Cowper  lets  me  know  more  of  his  own 
feelings,  and  they  are  such  as  I  can  well 
understand." 

"  Some  people  are  of  your  opinion,  Ag- 
nes," replied  her  cousin;  "but,  in  my 
judgment,  Thomson  and  Cowper  are  not 
to  be  compared." 

Mrs.  Rankin  then  began  to  talk  upon 


132  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  J 

one  or  two  other  subjects,  about  which 
her  ideas  rather  differed  from  those  of 
Agnes  ;  but,  as  the  latter  was  invited  by 
her  cousin  to  express  her  opinion,  she  did 
so,  gently,  indeed,  but  very  clearly.  At 
the  conclusion  of  the  drive,  as  the  two 
young  friends  walked  together  into  the 
house,  Emily  exclaimed  to  Agnes  :< 

"  Well,  I  congratulate  you  upon  so  well 
maintaining  your  side  against  Mrs.  Ran- 
kin.  It  was  all  the  better  for  you,  as  I 
could  render  you  no  assistance." 

"  Indeed,"  replied  Agnes,  ':  I  was  not 
aware  that  I  was  in  any  situation  of  diffi- 
culty. Mrs.  Rankin  is  so  kind,  I  do  not 
mind  talking  to  her  ;  and,  if  I  am  asked, 
you  know  I  must  say  what  I  think." 

"  Oh  !  to  be  sure  ;  I  seldom  mind  say- 
ing what  I  think,"  cried  Emily  ;  "only  it 
amused  me  to  hear  you,  remembering 
what  happened  about  that  dull  book  this 
morning,  and  how  ready  you  were  to  be- 
lieve papa." 


OR,  HUMILITY.  133 

"  Yes,"  said  Agnes  ;  "  and  I  always 
wish  to  listen  to  the  advice  of  those  who 
are  so  well  able  to  give  it.  But  I  still  do 
not  think  that  it  is  inconsistent  with  this, 
nor  do  I  see  any  want,  either  of  politeness 
or  humility,  if  a  person  expresses  an  opin- 
ion, when  asked,  even  though  it  should 
happen  to  differ  from  that  of  another." 

"  In  that  I  quite  agree,"  answered 
Emily  ;  "  and  I  believe,  Agnes,  few  people 
would  quarrel  with  one  for  differing  with 
them  in  matters  of  taste  merely,  such  as 
you  were  speaking  of;  but  in  more  im- 
portant things  it  is  so  difficult,  do  you  not 
think,  for  young  persons  to  disagree  with 
any  of  their  superiors,  without  incurring 
the  censure  of  being  very  self-opinion- 
ated ?" 

"  Emily,  dear,"  replied  Agnes,  "  I  can 
imagine  instances  where  those  even  who 
are*  quite  young  may  be  called  upon  to 
differ  from  such  as  they  are  yet  bound  to 
esteem   and   honour,  and  to   show  their 


134  AGNES    AND    ELIZA*, 

difference  by  their  conduct ;  yet  even 
then  this  may  be  done,  as  I  am  sure  it 
ought  to  be  done,  in  a  very  humble  man- 
ner. Happily  for  us,  however,  these  are 
cases  which  we  can  only  imagine  ;  and 
I  should  think  that,  generally  speaking, 
young  persons  like  ourselves  were  more 
apt  to  err,  by  paying  too  little  deference 
to  the  judgment  of  others,  than  by  over- 
valuing them." 

"  Well,,  you  may  be  right,  Agnes," 
said  Emily  ;  and  thus  the  friends  sepa- 
rated. 

I  have  already  mentioned  that  one  of 
Agnes's  pleasures  at  Woodford  was  af- 
forded her  by  her  friend's  beautiful  gar- 
den ;  she  liked  to  be  there  alone  in  the 
early  morning,  that  she  might  enjoy  her 
own  thoughts,  which  were  usually  then 
very  pleasant ;  and  at  other  times  she 
would  employ  herself  in  learning  favour- 
ite poems,  or  reading.  Many  a  happy 
hour,  too,  did  she  there  pass  with  Emily  ; 


OR,  HUMILITY.  135 

thus  preparing  for  her,  as  the  latter  would 
often  say,  fresh  pleasures  of  memory  to 
solace  her  when  Agnes  should  leave. 

On  such  occasions  Agnes  was  espe- 
cially fond  of  recounting  speeches  or  anr 
ecdotes  of  her  grandmama ;  and  Emily 
loved  to  hear  them,  partly  from  the  pleas- 
ure which  the  relation  gave  to  her  friend, 
and  partly  because  she  already  felt  a 
great  affection  towards  Mrs.  Shaen,  al- 
though she  had  never  seen  her. 

One  remarkably  fine  evening,  they  were 
walking  together  in  their  favourite  shrub- 
bery, when  the  following  conversation 
took  place  between  them  : 

Emily.  I  think,  Agnes,  if  every  even- 
ing were  like  this,  (and  like  it,  also,  in 
your  being  with  me,)  I  should  become 
quite  a  different  creature,  and  grow  so 
calm  and  contented  as  to  cease  to  look 
forward  continually,  as  now  I  do.  For 
did  you  ever  see  a  lovelier  twilight  ? 
There  is  but  one  cloud  above  us,  and  I 


136  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ', 

would  not  wish  it  away,  it  rests  so  softly 
there, 

Agnes.  It  is  very,  very  beautiful,  Em- 
ily. Do  you  not  think,  dear,  that  such  a 
scene  as  this  helps  us  somewhat  to  realize 
that  description  given  us  of  God,  as  "  the 
High  and  Lofty  One,  that  inhabiteth  eter- 
nity, whose  name  is  Holy  !" 

Emily.  It  might  well  do  so,  Agnes ; 
but  yet  I  do  not  know  that  I  ever  looked 
upon  it  before  in  that  way. 

Agnes.  Perhaps  I  am  the  more  inclined 
to  do  so,  because  I  well  remember  the 
first  time  my  grandmama  repeated  that 
verse  to  me,  on  an  evening  much  like  this. 
I  believe  I  had  not  been  quite  good  just 
before,  and  so  she  quoted  those  words, 
and  went  on  to  the  end  of  the  text.  I 
recollect  even  now  how  she  spoke  to  me 
about  it.  "I  dwell  in  the  high  and  holy 
place,  with  him,  also,  (what  an  also, 
Agnes  !"  she  said,)  "  that  is  of  a  contrite 
and  humble  spirit,  to  revive  the  spirit  of 


OR,  HUMILITY.  137 

the  humble,  and  to  revive  the  heart  of  the 
contrite  ones.  Do  you  ever,  my  love," 
continued  grandmama,  "  wish  for  a  hum- 
ble spirit  ?  then  see  what  God  has  joined 
with  it,  contrite.  My  dear  child,  if  you 
would  be  humble,  ask  God,  who  only  can 
do  so,  to  show  you  your  offences  against 
Him ;  and  when  you  see  how  many,  and 
how  great,  and  how  aggravated,  they  are, 
you  will  not  be  disposed  to  be  proud 
in  your  conduct  towards  men."  Then 
grandmama  went  on  to  tell  me  of  the  hap- 
piness of  having  God  to  dwell  in  the  heart, 
till  I  thought  how  blessed  a  thing  that 
humility  must  be,  to  which  such  a  prom- 
ise is  given. 

Emily.  What  an  advantage  you  have 
had,  Agnes  ;  and  will,  I  hope,  long  con- 
tinue to  have,  in  the  society  of  one  who 
talked  to  you  so  often  on  such  a  subject ! 
And  you  have  done  well  to  remember 
what  she  said. 

Agnes.  Oh,  Emily  !  I  wish  I  had  ta- 
18 


138  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

ken  more  pains  to  do  so  ;  then  I  should 
have  recollected  more.  But,  however, 
the  whole  effect  of  her  example  and  con- 
versation will  not,  I  trust,  be  quite  lost 
upon  me.  I  can  recall  now  so  many 
texts,  that  she  loved  to  repeat  over  and 
over  again,  which  speak  of  humility, 
either  in  the  way  of  precept,  or  example, 
or  promise.  Often,  too,  as  we  walked 
with  her  to  church,  she  would  tell  us  how 
humbly  the  Bible  teaches  us  to  pray  ;  and 
how  our  Church,  following  herein  the  ex- 
ample of  Holy  Scripture,  would  impress 
upon  Her  members  the  same  spirit  of  hu- 
mility by  all  Her  services.  Then  she 
would  quote  many  instances  of  this. 

Emily.  Tell  me  some  of  them,  Agnes, 
please. 

Agnes.  We  need  but  turn  to  the  Pray- 
er-Book, dear ;  (and  we  can  remember 
our  Collects  without  doing  that  just  now  ;) 
petitions  we  have  expressed  in  such  a 
form    as    this :    "  We    humbly    beseech 


OR    HUMILITY.  139 

Thee  ;"  thanksgivings,  "  We  give  Thee 
humble  thanks,"  "We  most  humbly 
praise  Thy  name  ;"  confessions — but  of 
these  I  need  not  remind  you.  Think,  too, 
of  the  whole  spirit  of  our  Services  ;  or  let 
us  take,  as  a  specimen,  that  one — surely 
it  is  among  the  most  beautiful — for  the 
Holy  Communion.  Did  it  never  strike 
you  there  how  the  deepest  humiliation  is 
blended  with  the  sublimest  praise  ?  the 
confession  followed  by  that  glorious  hymn  : 
"  Therefore  with  angels  and  archangels  ;" 
and  that  again  by  the  lowly  prayer : 
"  We  do  not  presume  to  come  to  this 
Thy  table,  O  merciful  Lord,"  &c.  For, 
as  it  says  in  a  verse  which  my  grandma- 
ma  sometimes  repeated  : 

"  The  soul  that  so  abased  lies 
With  deepest  shame  and  humblest  cries, 
Most  meet  shall  join  in  angels'  lays,    . 
And  lowliest  heart  yield  highest  praise." 

Emily.    Agnes,  dear,  I  always  like  to 


140  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

hear  you  talk  of  your  grandmama.  How 
I  wish  I  knew  her  ! 

Agnes.  I  hope  you  will  know  her 
some  day,  Emily,"  said  Agnes  ;  and  so 
saying,  she  followed  her  friend  into  the 
house. 

The  morning  after  this  dialogue,  as  Em- 
ily entered  the  breakfast-room,  "  Here,  my 
love,"  said  Mrs.  Gardiner  to  her,  display- 
ing a  bag  of  rather  curious  workmanship  ; 
"  this  is  a  present  Agnes  has  made  me." 

"  How  very  pretty  !"  exclaimed  Em- 
ily;  "  and  how  nicely  you  have  done  it, 
Agnes,  if  it  is  your  work  !" 

"  You  must  have  made  several  bags  of 
this  kind  before,  I  should  think,"  said 
Mrs.  Gardiner,  "  or  you  would  hardly 
have  arrived  at  such  perfection  ;  for  really 
there  is  some  practice  as  well  as  inge- 
nuity required  in  this  work." 

"  A  young  lady  at  school  taught  me," 
answered  Agnes  ;  "  you  knew  her,  Em- 
ily,— Augusta  Haines." 


OR,  HUMILITY.  141 

"  Oh  !"  cried  Emily,  "  I  am  sure  she 
might  have  taught  me  long  enough  before 
I  should  have  made  any  progress." 

"Well,"  replied  Agnes,  "I  will  say 
much  credit  is  due  to  her  patience  with 
me  ;  but,  after  all,  this  work  is  not  so  dif- 
ficult an  affair  as  you  seem  to  imagine.  I 
could  very  easily  show  it  you,  if  you  have 
any  wish  to  learn." 

"  Oh  !  from  you,  Agnes,"  said  Emily, 
"  I  am  always  willing  to  learn  anything  ; 
though,  in  the  present  instance,  I  fear  I 
shall  prove  but  a  dull  scholar." 

Accordingly  the  two  young  ladies  soon 
found  an  opportunity  of  beginning  their 
employment.  They  had  not  been  long 
seated,  when  Mrs.  Rankin  rather  sud- 
denly made  her  appearance. 

"  And  so  I  find  you,  as  usual,"  she  said, 
"  diligently  occupied.  You  are  teaching 
Emily  that  pretty  work,  are  you,  Agnes  ? 
Well,  it  is  uncommonly  elegant.  I  have 
just  been  admiring  Mrs.  Gardiner's  bag, 


142  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

and  now  I  am  come  to  say  that  I  must 
learn  myself." 

"  I  am  sure,"  answered  Agnes,  "  I  shall 
be  very  happy  to  show  you." 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  replied  Mrs.  Rankin  ; 
"  but  I  do  not  intend  to  be  taught  just  yet. 
You  must  come  to  Otterbourne,  and  there 
I  shall  have  my  lesson." 

Agnes  smiled. 

"  Yes,  Agnes,"  continued  her  cousin  ; 
"  but,  indeed,  I  expect  a  more  serious 
reply.  I  see  you  are  waiting  for  a  formal 
invitation,  but  that  it  is  not  in  my  way  to 
give.  I  am  only  sorry  Mary  is  not  at 
home  just  now ;  Mr.  Rankin  and  myself 
would  be  most  glad  that  she  should  have 
had  you  for  a  companion.  Still,  as  to  en- 
tertainment, I  can  promise  you  some 
without  her.  There  are  several  things  in 
our  neighborhood  well  worthy  of  a  visit ; 
and,  as  you  are  fond  of  drawing,  you 
may  like  to  look  at  our  pictures,  for  Mr. 
Rankin   is    somewhat  of   a   connoisseur, 


OR,  HUMILITY.  143 

and  has  a  few  by  the  finest  artists. 
Come  !  I  will  leave  you  to  talk  the  matter 
over  with  Emily,  and  then  I  hope  you  will 
not  keep  me  longer  without  an  answer." 

Agnes  hardly  knew  at  first  what  reply 
to  make  to  Mrs.  Rankin,  except  to  thank 
her  for  her  kindness  ;  however,  she  deem- 
ed it  best,  before  coming  to  a  decision,  to 
write  to  Mrs.  Shaen  on  the  subject.  Her 
grandmama  saw  no  objection  to  the  visit ; 
she  was  rather  glad  that  Agnes  should 
have  this  opportunity  of  cultivating  the 
acquaintance  of  her  cousin.  It  was  there- 
fore settled,  that,  when  Mrs.  Rankin  re- 
turned to  Otterbourne,  Agnes  should  ac- 
company her,  and  thence,  after  a  short 
stay,  should  return  to  Westcote. 

"  Are  you  not  glad,  mama,"  said  Emily 
to  Mrs.  Gardiner  the  morning  afterwards, 
"  that  Agnes  is  going  to  Otterbourne  ?  I 
think  it  will  be  so  pleasant  for  her,  and  it 
will  not  take  her  at  all  sooner  from  us, 
you  know." 


144  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  J 

"  Oh,  no,  my  dear  !"  replied  her  mama  ; 
"  I  shall  be  sorry,  whenever  the  time 
comes,  to  part  with  Agnes  ;  but  perhaps, 
on  the  whole,  it  is  desirable  that  she 
should  stay  with  Mrs.  Rankin." 

"  What  makes  you  say  '  on  the  whole,' 
mama  ?"  cried  Emily  ;  "  why,  do  you  not 
like  her  to  be  there  ?" 

"  I  do  like  it,  my  dear,  as  I  have  said, 
on  the  whole,"  answered  Mrs.  Gardiner; 
"  but  yet  there  is  one  reason  which  makes 
me  a  little  hesitate." 

"  Oh  !  mama,  what  can  that  be  ?"  ex- 
claimed Emily ;  "  do  pray  let  me  hear 
it." 

"  Why,  Emily/'  answered  her  mama, 
"  T  see  that  Mrs.  Rankin  has  taken  a  great 
fancy  to  Agnes,  and  this  is  all  very  well ; 
yet  I  think  she  does  not  always  show  it 
in  the  wisest  way.  Agnes  is  a  favourite 
of  mine,  too  ;  and  I  should  be  quite  sorry 
if  she  becomes  spoiled.  She  is  very 
humble  now,  but  I  do  not  know  how  far 


i 


OR,  HUMILITY.  145' 

her  cousin's  excessive  admiration  may 
tend  to  make  her  otherwise." 

Emily  had  so  high  an  opinion  of  her 
friend,  and  the  idea  of  her  being  spoiled 
was  so  new,  that  Mrs.  Gardiner's  words 
a  good  deal  surprised  her. 

"  Mrs.  Rankin  spoil  Agnes,  mama !" 
she  exclaimed  ;  "  what !  do  you  think  she 
praises  her  too  much?" 

"You  know,  Emily,"  observed  Mrs. 
Gardiner,  "  you  cannot  expect  any  one, 
not  even  Agnes,  to  be  above  the  power  of 
flattery  ;  and,  the  clearer  a  mirror,  the 
more  discernible  is  each  speck  on  its  sur- 
face.    However,  watch  for  yourself." 

Emily  mused  in  silence  upon  what  her 
mama  had  said,  and  a  little  reflection  and 
observation  of  their  visitor's  conduct  con- 
vinced her  that  it  might  be  right.  Mrs. 
Rankin,  though  in  most  respects  very 
sensible,  was  rather  apt,  when  she  met 
with  a  young  person  who  pleased  her,  to 
show  her  partiality  too  openly.  It  was 
19 


146  AGJMES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

not  that  she  exactly  flattered,  but  her 
praise  was  given  in  that  delicate  way 
which  is  most  pleasing,  and  so  most  dan- 
gerous to  a  modest  character,  and  the 
constant  repetition  of  which  is  likely  to 
produce,  almost  insensibly,  a  bad  effect 
upon  the  mind. 

No  sooner  did  the  thought  that  Agnes 
was  in  danger  of  being  injured,  or  ren- 
dered unlike  herseif,  enter  Emily's  imag- 
ination, than  she  resolved  to  do  what  lay 
in  her  power  to  prevent  such  a  conse- 
quence. She  waited  long  for  an  opportu- 
nity, till  at  length  it  came  to  the  last  day 
of  Agnes's  visit  at  Woodford,  and  then 
she  could  delay  no  longer.  Happily  she 
had  an  occasion.  It  was  usual  with  the 
two  friends  to  read  together  before  break- 
fast the  lessons  for  the  morning  ;  and  this 
day,  it  being  the  26th  day  of  August, 
they  had  just  finished  the  twenty-ninth 
chapter  of  Proverbs,  when  Emily  ex- 
claimed : 


OR,  HUMILITY.  147 

"  Oh,  Agnes,  how  long  will  it  be  be- 
fore we  shall  read  together  so  pleasantly 
again  !" 

"  Pray,  Emily  dear,"  replied  her  friend, 
"  do  not  put  into  my  mind  such  sad 
thoughts  as  those  of  parting  now  ;  or, 
if  we  must  think  of  it,  let  it  be  to  fix 
more  deeply  in  our  memory  these  our  last 
chapters." 

"  Well,  then,  Agnes,"  answered  Emily, 
"  I  will  tell  you  what  verse  struck  me  the 
most  as  you  were  reading,  though  you 
may  think  it  a  strange  one.  It  was  the 
fifth  :  '  A  man  that  flattereth  his  neighbour 
spreadeth  a  net. for  his  feet.  Do  you  not 
think,  dear,"  she  continued,  "  that  gene- 
rally now-a-days  we  hear  more  of  the 
folly  of  bestowing  flattery,  than  of  the 
danger  of  receiving  it  ?  and  yet,  from 
this  text,  it  would  seem  no  very  safe 
thing  to  be  exposed  to  its  power." 

"  Indeed,  it  would  not,"  returned 
Agnes  ;  "  and  so  I  think  we  may  be  glad 


148  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

to  have  been  hitherto  pretty  well  kept 
from  the  trial." 

"Well,  I  must  confess,"  answered 
Emily,  "  that  I  like  both  to  give  and  re- 
ceive praise  very  much.  And  yet  it  is  so 
difficult  to  know  when  praise  becomes 
flattery.  I  am  afraid  it  would  often  do 
so,  in  my  own  case,  before  I  was  aware 
of  it." 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Agnes,  "  it  is  hardly 
necessary  to  decide  that  question  exactly, 
because  we  can  in  some  measure  judge 
when  praise  has  been  too  much  for  us,  by 
its  effect  upon  our  minds.  I  can  remem- 
ber, from  the  time  when  I  was  a  very 
little  girl,  that  generally,  when  my  grand- 
mama  commended  me,  I  used  to  be  made 
more  anxious  to  please  her  again  ;  and  I 
think  praise,  if  judiciously  given,  would 
always  have  a  similar  effect.  As  for 
what  is  injudicious,  I  have  hitherto  been 
so  much  kept  from  hearing  it,  that  I  have 
never  particularly  considered  its  danger. 


OR,  HUMILITY.  149 

But  I  recollect  a  saying  of  my  grandma- 
ma's  :  '  A  little  praise  is  good  for  all ; 
much  praise  benefits  few,  and  flattery 
none.'  " 

"  I  think  I  agree  with  that,"  replied 
her  friend.  "  But,  dear  Agnes,  though 
you  have  not  yet,  as  you  say,  been  in 
much  danger  from  the  flattery  of  others, 
perhaps  some  time  or  other  you  may  be  ; 
and  then  f  Forewarned,  forearmed,'  you 
know." 

"  Well,  Emily,"  answered  Agnes,  "  if 
ever  I  should  be  so,  I  hope  this  verse  may 
come  into  my  mind." 

"  I  hope  it  may,"  replied  Emily  ;  "and 
that  you  will  recollect  that  I  said  so." 

"  Thank  you,  Emily,"  returned  Agnes  ; 
"  and  now  shall  we  read  the  second  les- 
son ?" 


150  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 


CHAPTER    VII. 

My  readers  may  by  this  time  have  dis- 
covered that  I  am  not  fond  of  lingering 
upon  parting  scenes  ;  they  will  not,  there- 
fore, be  surprised  that  I  pass  over  Emily 
and  Agnes' s  farewells,  and  beg  them  to 
accompany  the  latter  on  her  drive  with 
her  cousin  to  Otterbourne.  Mrs.  Rankin 
kindly  left  Agnes  to  her  own  thoughts  the 
first  part  of  the  way,  and  afterwards  en- 
deavoured by  agreeable  conversation  to 
divert  her  mind  from  the  loss  of  her 
friend.  Every  object  of  interest  on  the 
road  was  carefully  pointed  out ;  and  when 
at  length  they  arrived  at  the  end  of  their 
journey,  Agnes  was  quite  disposed  to  ad- 
mire the  beautiful  situation  of  her  cousin's 


OR,  HUMILITY.  151 

house.  It  was  a  little  raised  above  richly- 
wooded  grounds  on  either  side.  In  the 
midst  of  these  ran  a  clear  stream,  and  the 
dark  foliage  of  chesnut  and  elm  was 
beautifully  reflected  in  the  calm  water. 
Behind  the  house  was  a  range  of  low 
hills,  now  glowing  with  heath  ;  and  higher 
ones  peeped  above  them  in  the  distance. 

"  From  their  summit,  Agnes,"  said 
Mrs.  Rankin,  "  we  gain  a  splendid  view 
of  the  Channel  on  the  one  side  ;  and,  on 
the  other,  you  may  count  village  after  vil- 
lage, and  at  least  fancy  Woodford  to  be 
one  of  them." 

But  it  was  not  only  in  out-door  scenes 
that  Agnes  was  called  upon  to  express 
her  admiration  ;  all  within  was  beautiful, 
and  much  was  new  to  her.  There  were 
cabinets  of  curiosities,  and  paintings  and 
statues  ;  there  was  a  harp,  which  wanted 
not  in  its  owner  the  accompaniment  of  an 
exquisite  voice  ;  and  a  library  always  at 
Agnes' s    command.     Mr.   Rankin  was  a 


152  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  J 

very  superior  man,  and,  besides,  took  great 
pleasure  in  showing  his  young  visitor  the 
rarities  with  which  his  house  was  stored  ; 
and  Mrs.  Rankin  wishing  to  associate 
Agnes  with  her  in  her  employment,  dis- 
played to  the  latter  all  her  arrangements  ; 
she  introduced  her  to  the  charity-school, 
which  she  had  lately  established,  and 
preserved  in  a  most  perfect  order ;  and 
she  made  her  acquainted  with  several 
happy  families  among  the  poor,  to  the 
cottages  of  whom  Mrs.  Rankin  paid  fre- 
quent visits.  Thus  the  time  passed  quick- 
ly and  pleasantly  with  Agnes,  though  she 
often  longed  for  Emily  to  share  her  en- 
joyment. 

There  was,  however,  a  greater  evil  at 
Otterbourne  than  the  absence  of  Emily, 
though  poor  Agnes  was  unconscious  of  it. 
Her  cousin's  kindness  to  her  was  indeed 
unvaried,  but  it  was  not  the  truest  kind- 
ness. Mrs.  Rankin  took  every  opportu- 
nity of  showing  how  high  an  opinion  she 


OR,  HUMILITY.  153 

entertained  of  her  visitor  ;  Miss  Graham's 
judgment  and  taste  were  always  to  be 
consulted,  her  advice  even  must  be  asked, 
upon  every  subject ;  yet  this  was  done  in 
such  a  way,  that  Agnes  by  no  means 
shrunk  from  it,  as  she  would  have  done 
from  open  flattery  ;  nay,  she  began,  though 
unawares  to  herself,  to  like  her  cousin  the 
better,  and  think  the  more  highly  of  her, 
in  proportion  as  she  paid  her  attention. 

Still,  as  we  have  said,  no  event  occur- 
red for  some  time  to  disclose  Agnes's  feel- 
ings to  herself;  and,  as  there  was  nothing 
from  without  to  disturb  her,  all  went  on 
very  smoothly  and  happily  for  several 
days.  * 

At  length,  a  few  evenings  before  her 
leaving  Otterbourne,  Mrs.  Rankin  invited 
some  friends  to  dinner  ;  and  one  or  two 
of  them  were  to  sleep  at  her  house  that 
night.  After  tea,  Agnes  was,  as  usual, 
called  upon  to  play,  and  the  commenda- 
tions she  received  for  her  performance 
20 


154  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

(not  indeed  without  reason)  were  such  as 
satisfied  even  her  cousin.  Soon  after, 
Mrs.  Rankin,  talking  with  a  lady  about  to 
visit  Scotland,  wished  her  young  friend  to 
exhibit  some  drawings  of  Benvenue  and 
Loch  Katrine,  which  she  had  lately  cop- 
ied. They  still  lay  on  the  table,  when 
Mr.  Rankin,  pausing  in  the  midst  of  a 
long  argument,  approached  it,  and  took 
them  in  his  hand.  Agnes  was%  standing 
by,  but  he  did  not  notice  her. 

"  Oh  !  have  you  not  seen  those  Scotch 
mountains  ?"  said  his  wife  ;  "  then  I  am 
sure  you  have  a  treat.  They  are  Agnes's 
drawing,  you  know." 

"  They  are  not  badly  done,"  replied 
Mr.  Rankin,  rather  hastily  turning  them 
over  ;  "  and  they  serve  to  bring  to  my 
mind  many  a  pleasant  ramble  in  by-gone 
days.  But  you  had  some  Irish  views  here 
just  now  ;  what  has  become  of  them  ?" 

"  Oh !  Fanny  Roberts's,  you  mean," 
answered  his  wife  ;  "  she  has  taken  them 


OR,  HUMILITY.  155 

away.  Fanny,  my  dear,"  she  continued, 
"  could  you  bring  your  drawings  here 
once  more  ?  I  am  sorry  to  trouble  you, 
but  Mr.  Rankin  wishes  to  see  them." 

Fanny  complied. 

"  Thank  you  !"  said  Mr.  Rankin  ;  "  this 
is  a  style  I  exceedingly  admire,  so  free 
and  bold.  And  you  have  some  smaller 
drawings,  I  see  ;  may  I  look  at  them  ?" 

"Oh!"  said  Miss  Roberts,  "these  are 
only  some  sketches  I  have  taken  lately  ; 
I  am  quite  a  beginner  in  this  way." 

"  But  I  see  you  know  how  to  begin," 
replied  Mr.  Rankin  ;  "and  that  is  some- 
thing. You  must  be  very  fond  of  draw- 
ing, and  have  had  a  good  master,  I  should 
say.     Have  you  learnt  long?" 

"  About  two  years,"  said  Miss  Roberts. 

"  Well,"  observed  Mr.  Rankin,  turning 
to  his  wife,  "  I  do  not  wish  to  speak  slight- 
ingly of  Miss  Graham's  drawings  ;  they 
are  really  very  prettily  done ;  but  these 
are   far  more   to   my   own   taste.     Miss 


156  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  J 

Roberts  has  learnt  but  a  short  time  as  yet ; 
by-and-by,  if  she  goes  on  thus,  I  think 
she  will  attain  to  some  excellence." 

Agnes  heard  all  this  conversation,  and 
her  first  feeling  was  one  of  vexation. 
She  was  mortified  that  Mr.  Rankin,  who 
was  known  to  be  a  judge  about  such 
things,  should  have  seemed  to  disregard 
her  own  drawings,  and  have  shown  such 
a  decided  preference  for  those  of  another ; 
and  especially  that  he  should  have  ex- 
pressed this  opinion  to  Mrs.  Rankin.  Her 
second  was  that  of  envy  and  dislike  to- 
wards the  young  lady  who  had  been  the 
innocent  cause  of  his  remarks.  For  a 
few  moments  she  indulged  this  feeling, 
but  it  was  only  for  a  few.  Scarcely  was 
Agnes  conscious  of  the  wrong  disposition 
at  work  within  her,  when  she  checked  it 
by  the  remembrance  of  the  verse,  "  In 
lowliness  of  mind  let  each  esteem  other 
better  than  themselves."  And  now  she 
was  as  much  vexed  that  for  a  moment 


OR,  HUMILITY.  157 

she  should  have  indulged  such  a  contrary 
spirit,  as  she  was  before  from  the  mortifi- 
cation she  had  received.  That  she  might 
more  -  entirely  put  away  her  envious 
thoughts  towards  Miss  Roberts,  she  went 
up  and  entered  into  conversation  with 
her,  asking  to  see  her  portfolio.  This  she 
was  soon  able  to  look  at  with  real  pleas- 
ure, and  both  the  young  ladies  began  to 
be  interested  in  talking  upon  a  subject  of 
which  they  were  extremely  fond.  Agnes 
wras  much  gratified  by  several  remarks  of 
Miss  Roberts'  upon  the  theory  of  painting, 
and  was  able,  in  her  turn,  to  furnish  her 
companion  with  some  useful  practical 
hints,  gained  from  her  own  experience. 
Thus  they  separated  for  the  night,  mutu- 
ally pleased  with  one  another. 

But  when  Agnes  retired  to  her  room, 
she  could  not  feel  satisfied  with  herself. 
She  was  accustomed  to  review,  at  the 
close  of  the  day,  her  actions,  and  motives, 
and    thoughts,   throughout   its   progress ; 


158  A.GNES    AND    ELIZA  ', 

and  though  her  feeling  towards  Miss 
Roberts  that  evening  was  but  transitory,  it 
was,  nevertheless,  one  which  she  was  so 
unaccustomed  to  know,  that  she  became 
the  more  anxious  to  discover  the  cause  of 
the  difference.  Formerly,  when  a  com- 
parison had  been  drawn  between  herself 
and  her  companions  to  her  own  disadvan- 
tage, she  had  scarcely  felt  annoyed,  much 
less  jealous  of  their  superiority,  Often, 
indeed,  she  had  taken  as  great  pleasure 
in  hearing  another  praised,  as  in  receiving 
praise  herself.  What  then  could  have 
made  the  change  ?  She  felt  that  it  was 
in  some  way  connected  with  her  strong 
desire  to  maintain  the  high  opinion  her 
cousin  had  conceived  of  her.  "  I  ought, 
indeed,"  said  Agnes  to  herself,  "  to  feel 
grateful  to  Mrs.  Rankin  for  her  kindness, 
and  endeavour  to  show  that  I  am  so. 
But  is  it  right  that  I  should  be  so  very 
anxious  for  her  to  continue  to  believe  me 
different  from  what  I  know  that  I  am  ? 


OR,  HUMILITY.  159 

I  cannot  certainly  undeceive  her  myself; 
but  if  anything  occurs  that  may  tend  to 
do  so,  should  not  my  vexation  be  (if  in- 
deed I  must  be  vexed)  that  I  am  not  the 
perfect  creature  she  imagines,  rather  than 
that  she  should  cease  to  consider  me  as 
such?" 

Presently  the  thought  of  Emily  s  verse, 
and  their  conversation  upon  it,  flashed 
across  Agnes' s  mind.  This  was  followed 
by  a  whole  train  of  remembrances.  She 
could  recall  many  times  when  Mrs.  Ran- 
kin had  strongly  expressed  her  approval 
of  conduct  which  her  grandmama  would, 
she  knew,  have  passed  over  in  silence  ; 
others,  when  she  had  been  more  anxious 
to  receive  the  commendations  of  her  cous- 
in, than  to  deserve  them  ;  and  she  remem- 
bered having  been  led  to  say  and  do 
many  things,  during  her  stay  at  Otter- 
bourne,  solely  for  the  purpose  of  hearing 
herself  praised.  And  now  Agnes  won- 
dered that  she  could  have  gone  on  so  long, 


160  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

blind  to  Mrs.  Rankin's  ill-judged  attentions. 
"  Oh,"  she  thought,  "  if  my  only  motive 
for  doing  right  is  that  of  being  praised, 
perhaps  before  long  the  same  principle 
may  lead  me  into  what  is  very  wrong. 
And  how  foolish  and  weak  I  must  be, 
that  so  slight  a  thing  should  prove  to  me 
such  a  temptation  !" 

But  it  is  the  same  with  older  people 
than  Agnes.  Those  who  have  continued 
longest  in  a  right  course,  are  not  so  strong 
that  they  may  depend  upon  their  own 
steadiness,  nor  so  safe  that  they  may 
cease  to  keep  a  constant  guard  over  them- 
selves. And  this  is  the  great  danger  of 
hearing  much  of  our  own  praises,  that, 
believing  what  we  are  told,  we  are  thrown 
off  our  guard,  and  cease  to  take  heed, 
exactly  when  we  have  most  need  for 
watchfulness. 

Agnes,  after  this,  stayed  but  a  few  days 
at  Otterbourne,  but  that  time  was  suffi- 
cient to  allow  her  former  thoughts  often 


OR,  HUMILITY.  161 

to  recur  to  her.  Mrs.  Rankin's  conduct 
continued  the  same  ;  she  paid  her  still  the 
same  attention  as  ever,  but  it  gave  Agnes 
now  no  pleasure  ;  on  the  contrary,  rather 
pain,  as  it  reminded  her  of  her  own  folly. 
And  yet  she  was  glad  to  be  so'  reminded, 
that  by  the  recollection  of  past  weakness 
she  might  learn  where  to  look  for  strength, 
and  thus  be  preserved  in  a  future  time  of 
temptation. 

Very  grateful,  too,  did  she  then  feel  to 
Emily  for  the  warning  she  had  given  her. 
Oh  !  how  often  are  the  gentle  warnings 
of  friends  made  use  of  by  God  to  pre- 
serve His  people  from  sin  !  Remember 
this,  my  children  ;  and  if,  when  you  are 
about  to  turn  aside  from  the  right  path, 
some  kind  words  of  those  who  love  you 
come  across  vour  mind,  regard  them  as 
the  merciful  voice  of  your  Heavenly 
Father,  to  check  you,  and  make  you  con- 
sider your  ways. 

When  Agnes  left  Mrs.  Rankin,  it  was 
21 


162  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ; 

to  live  with  her  grandmama  at  Westcote  ; 
and  if  she  had  formerly  anticipated  this 
time  with  great  delight,  abundantly  now 
were  her  imaginations  of  happiness  real- 
ized ;  for  those  imaginations  were  not  the 
idle  castle-building  in  which  too  many  in- 
dulge themselves.  A  ones  had  never  suf- 
fered  the-thought  of  the  future  to  make 
her  discontented  with  the  present ;  rather 
ha.d  humility  taught  her,  in  whatsoever 
state  she  was,  therewith  to  be  content ; 
and  so  now,  when  placed  exactly  in  the 
situation  which,  could  she  have  chosen  for 
herself,  she  would  have  desired,  she  look- 
ed up  the  more  gratefully  to  Him  who 
had  brought  her  there,  and  strove  to  show 
forth  His  praise  by  devoting  herself  to 
His  service. 

Mrs.  Shaen  was  indeed  now  growing 
old  ;  but  a  considerable  measure  of  bodily 
health  and  comfort  were  still  permitted 
her,  and  her  mental  powers  w^ere  vigorous 
as  ever.     It  was  an  old  age  which  Agnes 


OR,  HUMILITY.  163 

loved  to  compare  to  the  bright  autumns 
of  Westcote,  with  their  purple  fruits,  and 
golden  harvests,  and  glowing  woods,  and 
sunsets  of  glory.  In  whatever  weakness 
she  felt,  it  was  Agnes's  delight  to  be  her 
solace  ;  to  her  wants  it  was  her  privilege 
to  minister.  And  many  of  the  poor  of 
the  parish,  towards  whom  for  so  many 
years  Mrs.  Shaen  had  acted  as  a  mother, 
manifested  now  the  affection  of  children 
in  her  decline  ;  whilst  Agnes,  by  the 
activity  and  devotedness  of  her  conduct 
amongst  them,  guided  as  these  were  by 
the  experience  of  her  grand  mama,  gave 
promise  that  she  would  not  ill  supply  the 
place  of  the  latter,  were  she  hereafter 
called  upon  to  do  so.  A  happy  change, 
however,  about  this  time  took  place  at 
Westcote,  on  the  death  of  the  former 
clergyman.  The  new  Rector,  Dr.  Ham- 
mond, with  his  family,  came  to  reside  in 
the  village.  It  was  a  novelty,  and  soon 
felt  by  the  inhabitants  as  a  delightful  one, 


164  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  J 

to  have  their  minister  among  them  ;  the 
more  so,  as  Dr.  Hammond  was  a  man 
whom  to  know  was  to  love.  His  wife,  as 
her  health  was  but  delicate,  was  very 
glad  of  Agnes' s  help  in  the  parish ;  and 
the  latter,  acting  under  her  direction,  and 
that  of  the  Rector,  soon  proved  herself  an 
effectual  assistance  to  both.  The  visits 
of  Br.  Hammond  were  sources  of  great 
delight  and  consolation  to  Mrs.  Shaen ; 
and  the  clergyman  loved,  also,  to  watch 
over  Agnes,  and  advise,  while  he  encour- 
aged her,  in  every  good  work. 

You  may  therefore  believe,  my  readers, 
that  in  such  a  situation  Agnes  would 
scarcely  have  felt  the  want  of  companions 
of  her  own  age,  excepting  that,  wherever 
she  was,  she  could  not  but  mourn  her  sis- 
ters loss.  But,  besides  the  society  of  her 
grandmama,  that  of  one  or  two  young 
friends  was  also  permitted  her ;  Lucy 
Seymour's  parents  lived  at  no  great  dis- 
tance  from    Westcote,   and    so    she    and 


OR,  HUMILITY.  165 

Agnes  contrived  often  to  meet ;  Jane  Ste- 
venson's home  was  too  distant  to  allow  of 
such  intercourse  ;  but  she  herself,  on  leav- 
ing school,  gladly  accepted  an  invitation 
from  Mrs.  Shaen  to  pass  a  little  time  at 
her  house,  where  she  accordingly  spent  a 
happy  month  with  Agnes  ;  and,  after  this, 
the  letters  which  they  wrote  at  intervals 
one  to  another,  served  to  maintain  and 
increase  their  friendship. 

But  where  was  Emily  ?  you  will  ask, 
was  she  forgotten  by  Agnes  ?  After  the 
latter  left  Woodford,  the  two  friends  were 
separated  for  some  years ;  most  unwil- 
lingly, indeed  ;  but  so  it  was,  that  several 
times,  just  as  Emily  had  made  everything 
ready  to  go  and  stay  at  Westcote,  some 
circumstance  occurred  to  prevent  the  exe- 
cution of  the  plan.  They  were,  however, 
in  no  danger  of  forgetting  one  another. 
All  the  occupations,  and  many  of  the 
thoughts  and  feelings  of  each  were  com- 
municated   to    her    friend ;    and,    parted 


166  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ', 

though  they  were,  they  scarcely  the  less 
shared  each  other's  joys  and  sorrows,  giv- 
ing one  another  encouragement  in  diffi- 
culty, and  comfort  in  sadness. 

In  the  meanwhile  it  happened  that 
Emily  married.  Agnes  could  not  be  at 
the  wedding,  which  was  a  disappointment 
to  both  ;  but  when  about  a  }rear  after- 
wards the  latter  received  a  letter  from 
her  friend,  begging  her  to  undertake  the 
office  of  godmother  to  her  baby,  and, 
after  some  consideration  and  consultation 
with  Mrs.  Sliaen,  she  had  acceded  to  the 
request,  Agnes  left  Westcote  to  be  pres- 
ent at  the  christening. 

The  infant,  by  its  papa's  wish,  was 
called  Emily  Alice  ;  but,  for  the  sake  of 
distinction,  I  shall  give  it  the  latter  name. 

Then,  at  Emily's  home,  the  intercourse 
of  former  days  between  herself  and  her 
friend  was  renewed  ;  and  they  found  that 
whilst  years  had  scarcely  taken  from  the 


OR,  HUMILITY.  167 

freshness,  they  had  increased  the  strength 
and  depth  of  their  affection. 

Again  Agnes  returned  to  Westcote, 
and  time  passed  on  quietly,  but  happily, 
with  her. 

In  the  course  of  four  years,  Emily  was 
summoned  to  leave  England  with  her  hus- 
band, on  account  of  some  situation  which 
had  been  offered  the  latter  abroad.  They 
were  obliged,  much  to  the  grief  of  both, 
to  leave  their  little  one  behind.  This  was 
the  greater  sorrow  to  its  mother,  as  she 
could  not.  commit  it  to  the  care  of  her  own 
parents,  for  they,  too,  were  absent ;  and, 
besides  them,  she  had  no  relation  to  whom 
she  entirely  liked  to  entrust  her  child. 

Emily  thought  of  Agnes  ;  and,  well 
knowing  that  a  stronger  tie  than  even 
friendship  for  herself  bound  her  to  little 
Alice,  she  ventured  to  write,  and  ask  her 
whether  she  were  willing  to  undertake 
such  a  charge.  The  last  part  of  her  let- 
ter I  will  here  copy  for  my  readers  : 


168  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  ', 

"  Our  darling,  though  rather  young  to 
be  at  school,  will  yet,  we  trust,  be  taken 
care  of  in  every  way  where  we  have 
placed  her  ;  and  at  present  her  learning 
much  is  a  matter  of  no  great  importance. 
But  the  thought  that  you,  dear  Agnes, 
will  watch  over  her,  and  let  me  hear  of 
her  from  time  to  time,  will  be  very  cheer- 
ing to  me ;  for,  since  I  am  denied  the 
pleasure  of  bringing  up  our  little  girl  my- 
self, I  know  of  no  one  to  whom  I  can  en- 
trust her  with  such  entire  confidence  as 
lo  yourself.  I  am  sure  those  lessons  you 
were  taught  by  your  grandmama  in  early 
days  are  not  likely  to  be  forgotten  now  ; 
and  1  only  wish  they  could  be  as  strongly 
impressed  upon  our  Alice.  You  will  teach 
her,  Agnes, — for  so  you  learned  yourself, 
• — that  to  be  holy,  we  must  first  be  hum- 
ble ;  you  will  show  her  that  the  dress 
which  will  best  befit  her  is  that  she  be 
1  clothed  with  humility ;'  that  her  truest 
ornaments  are  those  of '  a  meek  and  quiet 


OR,  HUMILITY.  169 

spirit.'  You  will  point  her  to  the  Pattern 
of  humility,  and  pray  that  she  may  so 
walk,  as  He  walked,  '  in  ail  lowliness.' 
And  that  she  may  be  prepared,  when  she 
goes  out  into  her  little  world,  to  be  told  a 
different  language,  that  she  may  expect 
to  hear  of  such  a  union  as  a  proud  and 
noble  spirit ;  you  will  bid  her  remember 
that  '  that  which  is  highly  esteemed 
among  men  is  abomination  in  the  sight  of 
God.'  " 

Agnes,  on  the  receipt  of  this  letter,  has- 
tened to  tell  her  friend  how  gladly  she 
would  comply  with  her  request ;  and 
henceforth  she  looked  upon  Alice,  during 
Emily's  absence,  as  her  adopted  child. 
She  did  not,  indeed,  take  her  to  live  at 
Westcote,  though,  had  Agnes  wished  it, 
her  grandmama  would  have  had  no  objec- 
tion to  this  plan  ;  but  they  both  thought 
that  Alice  would  have  more  advantages 
at  school.  The  holidays  of  the  little  one 
were,  however,  always  spent  at  Mrs. 
22 


170  AGNES    AND    ELIZA  J 

Shaen's  ;  then  Agnes  would  tell  her  how 
dearly  she  herself  loved  her  mama,  and 
she  delighted  to  relate  anecdotes  of  her  in 
her  childish  days.  Often  she  would  say, 
what  a  pleasure  it  would  be  to  Alice,  if 
her  life  were  spared,  to  welcome  her 
papa  and  mama  back  to  England  ;  and 
the  child  thought  so,  too,  though  she  loved 
Agnes  almost  like  a  parent,  and  Mrs. 
Shaen  also  very  fondly.  Let  us  hope, 
therefore,  that  her  affection  led  her  to  fol- 
low their  example,  and  listen  to  their  in- 
structions ;  then  we  need  not  doubt  that 
the  little  girl  grew  up  to  be  such  a  char- 
acter as  Emily  would  approve  when  she 
saw  her  again. 

But  these  hopes  are  all  that  I  can  give 
you  with  regard  to  the  future  history  of 
Alice  ;  for  it  is  time  now  that  we  should 
part  from  her,  and  from  Agnes,  who  has 
been  so  long  our  companion.  The  ac- 
count of  the  earlier  years  of  the  latter 
was  all  I  intended  to  relate  ;  and  I  would 


OR,  HUMILITY. 


171 


fain  trust  it  has  not  been  related  in  vain. 
It  will  not  be,  if  her  example  leads  you, 
my  readers,  to  desire  for  yourselves  that 
humility,  which  has  been  represented  in 
her  ; — so  to  desire  it,  I  mean,  that  you 
may,  with  regard  to  this  grace  especially, 
for  the  future,  obey  the  command,  and 
obtain  the  promise  :  "  Ask,  and  it  shall 
be  given  you." 


BEAUTIFUL    JUVENILE    BOOKS. 


§elen  Motion's  trial 


vtmuw.m 

BY    MRS.     ALICE     B.     NEAL. 


WITH  TWO  FINE  ENGRAVINGS. 

(28) 


BEAUTIFUL    JUVENILE    BOOKS. 


MUtn   3Hnrtnurs   €nnL 

BY  COUSIN  ALICE. 

"  We  learn  from  the  '  Short  Letter  of  Introduction,* 
that  the  full  name  of  '  Cousin  Alice'  is  Alice  B.  Neal. 
It  is  one  which  will  not  soon  be  forgotten  ;  for  we  hope 
that  the  beautiful  tale  which  she  has  produced,  may  be 
only  the  first  of  a  long  series.  We  can  assure  those 
who  are  interested  in  the  welfare  of  children,  and  look- 
ing round  for  '  Christmas  Presents,'  that  they  will  not 
readily  find  one  which  a  Christian  friend  or  parent  ought 
to  prefer  to  '  Helen  Morton's  Trial.'  " 

[The  True  Catholic. 

"  It  is  a  tale  of  exquisite  sentiment  and  pathos,  re- 
plete with  sound  religious  instruction,  and  written  in  a 
true  Church  spirit.  The  authoress  is  Mrs.  Joseph  C. 
Neal,  and  we  trust  that  this  is  but  the  beginning  of  goodly 
things  from  her  pen  for  the  little  ones  of  Christ's  flock. 
Such  works  will  always  be  most  welcome." 

[The  Churchman. 

"  We  have  received  from  the  Depository  of  the 
General  Protestant  Episcopal  Sunday-School  Union, 
two  beautiful  volumes  with  the  foA  >wing  titles  : — Helen 
Morton's  atrial ;  The  Revellers,  The  Midnight  Sea,  and 
The  Wanderer.  The  first  is  a  sweet,  interesting  story, 
full  of  wisdom  for  the  young ;  and  the  second  contains 
three  Allegories,  which  possess  a  charm  and  simplicity 
not  very  often  or  easily  attained,  in  that  difficult  class 
of  composition.  The  handsome  binding,  gilt  edges,  and 
nice  plates  of  these  little  works,  make  the  setting  quite 
worthy  of  such  gems  of  juvenile  narratives." 

[  The  Protestant  Churchman. 
(29) 


BEAUTIFUL    JUVENILE    BOOKS. 


OR 

fm\  anfr  tut  Communion. 


["You'll  water  my  Geranium,  Nannie  dear,  when  I'm  gone."—] 

BY  THE   AUTHOR  OF   THE   DARK  RIVER,  &c. 

WITH    THREE    FINE    ENGRAVINGS. 

This  is  an  exceedingly  interesting  and  affecting  story,  and 
is.  marked  by  the  characteristic  genius  of  its  author. 

(30) 


BEAUTIFUL    JUVENILE    BOOKS. 

Ham]  writ  $wjm; 

OR,     THE    FIRST    AND    LAST     COMMUNION. 
AN  EXAMPLE  OF  ATTACHMENT  TO  HOME. 

©*)£  Testament  in  tl)e   £inie   (Coffin; 

OR,    THE     MEMOIRS    OF    CAMERON    HASTEN. 

"  These  are  the  titles  of  tliree  juvenile  volumes,  from 
the  press  of  the  General  Protestant  Episcopal  Sunday- 
School  Union,  of  an  excellent  character,  and  well- 
adapted  to  secure  the  attention  of  the  young  to  the  im- 
portance of  early  habits  of  religious  thought  and 
profession.  They  are  handsomely  got  up,  and  prettily 
illustrated.  We  have,  also,  from  the  same  press, 
0  Christmas  Carol,  consisting  of  simple  verses,  com- 
memorative of  the  festival  of  the  Nativity." 

[Protestant  Churchman. 

"  They  are  beautifully  written,  and  make  valuable 
books  for    Sunday    Scholars.     The  scene  of  the  third 
above  named  work  is  laid  in  Western  New- York." 
[  Utica  Gospel  Messenger. 

"  Cameron  Masten  is  a  very  well  told  story,  in  style 
and  language  unusually  suited  to  the  apprehension  of 
Children." 

[The  Calendar. 
(32) 


BEAUTIFUL  JUVENILE  BOOKS. 


%tmi  drill],  nr  %  lull  Cpfr 


Showing  how  false  an  estimate  inexperienced  persons  will 
form  of  the  qualities  of  the  mind ;  and  of  how  much  more 
value  seriousness  and  thoughtfulness  are,  than  a  ready  wit 
with  giddiness  or  a  bad  temper. 

(24) 


BEAUTIFUL  JUVENILE  BOOKS. 


t  imtoj  <%  311iiinig!;f  $m, 


t  SBaiiSmr. 


BY    THE    REV.    EDWARD    A.    MONRO. 


WITH    BEAUTIFUL    ILLUSTRATIONS. 
(17) 


BEAUTIFUL    JUVENILE    BOOKS. 

Cjpe  flmlta,    €ty  BMgjjt  &m,   raft 

"  This  work  is  the  last,  and  among  the  best,  of  the 
series  of  allegories  with  which  our  Sunday-School 
Union  has  lately  been  favoring  the  public.  Like  its 
predecessors  in  the  series,  it  is  a  republication  of  an 
English  book.  It  adds  to  the  many  obligations  we  are 
under  to  the  venerable  Church  of  the  land  of  our 
fathers. 

"  The  book  is  an  admirable  specimen  of  the  excel- 
lence to  which  the  art  of  printing  has  attained.  It  vies 
with  the  very  best  of  foreign  publications  in  the  texture 
of  its  paper,  the  beauty  and  clearness  of  its  type,  the 
general  and  inviting  neatness  of  its  pages,  and  the  ap- 
propriate and  well-executed  original  designs  by  which 
it  is  illustrated  and  adorned.     ******* 

"  It  is  not  our  purpose  to  furnish  a  sketch  of  the  con- 
tents of  this  interesting  volume.  We  prefer  that  our 
readers  should  purchase  and  peruse  it  for  themselves. 
We  will,  therefore,  only  say,  that  the  three  well-sus- 
tained allegories  are  intended  to  inculcate  lessons  affect- 
ing the  Christian  life.  The  first  represents  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Church  in  the  characters  of  revellers  in  a 
magnificent  palace,  of  which  the  Lord  or  King  is  come 
(21) 


BEAUTIFUL    JUVENILE    BOOKS. 

suddenly  to  reward  or  punish  the  occupants,  according 
to  their  preparations,  in  proper  robes  and  deportment, 
to  receive  him.  The  second,  under  the  figure  of  the 
midnight  sea,  shows  the  difficulties  and  dangers  which 
beset  us  in  navigating  our  frail  bark  through  time  to 
eternity ;  aDd  how  indispensable  it  is  to  success  and 
safety,  that  we  depend  upon  the  skill  and  strength  of 
Christ  in  all  our  efforts.  The  third  gives  us  a  picture 
of  the  disciples  of  the  Lord  as  so  many  sheep  in  a 
fold  ;  and,  in  a  graphic  sketch  of  a  lamb  as  a  wanderer, 
depicts  the  ease  with  which  we  can  be  seduced  from 
faithfulness  and  duty, — the  persevering  love  of  our 
Heavenly  Shepherd  in  following  us,  even  when  we  go 
astray, — and  His  promptness  in  assisting  us.  and  making 
us,  as  it  were,  His  burden,  whenever  we  will  confess 
our  inability  to  proceed,  and  entreat  Him  to  bear  us  in 
His  arms. 

"  Every  person  who  purchases  this  book,  and  helps 
to  circulate  it,  is  sure  to  improve  the  minds  with  which 
he  brings  it  in  contact ;  and  to  instruct  immortal  souls 
in  the  things  which  most  seriously  influence  alike  their 
present  comfort  and  eternal  peace." 

[  The  Evergreen. 


(22) 


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